It's not a perfect oasis;
You'd have to have and aquired taste
To see the warmth and beauty
I find in this place.
The flowers may not bloom as bright
As they did in my past
But they always smell sweeter
Than when I smelt them last.
The yard may not have the same grandeur,
With its dry grass so overgrown,
And though peppered with dandelions for jewels,
It's the greenest earth I know.
The wooden shingles may be old fashioned
And the chimney's seen better days
But it's everything I ever dreamed of;
The mnemonic never fades.
From winter to spring to summer to fall
I sit by the window alone.
I may be the only one left,
But there's no place like home.
