What is home other than the place we sleep,
Is it a place we go just to think,
Is it the place we dream of when we're all alone,
Or the people we go to when all has failed.
Is home the look in your mothers eyes,
As you stroll down the street,
a skip in your stride,
Is home the joy upon her face,
As you walk into her arms with tender grace.
Is home the love of who you were always shown,
Or the proudness bestowed upon your fathers thrown,
Is it the lady who tends to the fire,
Her children who skip and dance with spirit.
Is home the place you want to be,
A place built only for you and me.
As your feet hit the pavement and hands sway at your side,
You breathe in the fresh air you've known as a child,
Your feet slow down as you near the gate,
Lips pulling up into that heart warming smile.
For now you are home,
If only for a while.
