For me,
Home is the wind and where it goes.
Home is the misguided run among the corn rows.
Home is the resting place of the stray arrows,
And crooked bows.
Home is the humid moo of the angry neighbor's cows.
Home is that sunset whose beauty flows through squinted brows.
Home is the uneven waves, that provide music to the Arabian dhows,
Home is the feeling, not the house.
-home -
Elliepoet
