Permanence

It's surprising how we know,

That something, someone,

Is going to be there even when we don't look?

It's like walking in the same old road,

And finding the same old tree,

Which stands tall in every season,

Every single day of the year,

And you know,

That it's still there,

Even after years, it'll still be there,

It's the permanence, the feeling of home.

It's like walking in your house at midnight with no lights,

Yet, not bumping into anything,

Because you know exactly,

Where everything is,

For its the permanence, the feeling of home.

And when you're lost,

In the hypothetical ways of life,

And you turn back,

To find that one person there,

Already with a map open,

Obvious but unexpected,

Often taken for granted,

Yet there,

Committing to some sort of permanence, like home.