Until he's grey and old...

I am clumsy ... I drop my phone all the time and hit my leg into something at least three times a day. I read endless amounts of sappy blogs and can recite my favourite quotes by heart. I have an obsession with being put together and I will always answer the phone - unless I really don't like you. I think I have a dream, but most of the days I'm still sleeping. The grass is cut. It smells like strawberries. Today is the beginning of something new. The old has gone and passed and I cleaned my drawers. Do you believe in the power of the universe? And can I tell you about Icarus? How he flew too close to the sun? I want to make coming here and reading my words your favourite part of the day. I want to leave tiny little pieces lingering in your mind, on nights when you're far away and can't sleep. I want to make everything around us beautiful; make small things mean a little more. Make you feel a little more. A little better, a little lighter. I want to be someone you can't live without.

He travels and in the end will never be kept. But if you understand him well enough, he’ll always be by your side. He might have forgotten where his home is in this world - but you might just make him feel like the closest thing to feeling at home. And while he’ll be leaving again real soon, this is the way you will never leave his heart. Because home is where you go to find solace from the ever changing chaos, to find love within the confines of a heartless world, and to be reminded that no matter how far you wander, there will always be something waiting when you return. Yet it could not be his home till he had gone from it and returned to it. Now he was the prodigal son.