Where is home?
Is it the place you’ve always resided,
storing memories as well as old clothes,
decorations, exercise equipment adorned with drying washing,
a teaspoon left on the draining board
after a hastily made cuppa?
Or is it the place where the people you love
greet you every time you appear,
whether it’s for an hour
or a week?
A place where you can be who you are,
no holding back,
and be totally, completely, accepted.
Where blood is not necessary to feel part of the family,
only warm smiles,
several helpings of tender sarcasm
and words that always bring
lightness of step
whenever they’ve been uttered.
Treeshallow Musings 