The frogs in the gully
The swishing of a skirt
These things are the sounds of home
Where nothing ever hurts.
The smell of lilacs, honeydew
Woodsmoke, dog fur, papa's chew
These things are the scents of home
Where you never have to be alone.
Cold metal, warm hands
There lives a family on this land.
Cold soup, fried ham
We'll stay here as long as we can.
The glow that comes with evening light
Bright windows shining in the night.
I hope this gives a sense of home,
No matter how far away you roam.
