Wed, 07/23/2014 - 17:35 -- miaj25

How can one find a place to call their home?

Is home where water sways beneath your feet,

or where children play and sandcastles roam?

Is home night sky where light and dark meet.

Could it be where mountains roll down a valley,

Or in a dazzling city full of white snow?

Maybe a tin box in a street alley?

Or a meadow where dandelions blow,

and white tufts ride freely in the blue sky?

Is home a town where shacks are made of sand?

Home is not a house, a town, or where stars lie.

Home is not found on a faraway land.

For house and home mean two different things.

In home exists love, and coziness clings.


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