Where are you from?
So… where’s HOME?
Home can be a house and home can be a place
Home can be a person and home can be an embrace
Home can be a smell or a secret smile
Home can be a corner or a square mile…
Miles… a whole island. Or perhaps the sea.
Home can be a nation and home can
Home can be private or something we share
Home we only notice when we realise it’s not there
Home we long for and home we miss
Home we search for and about home we reminisce
But home is often seen through rose tinted lenses
And when we look more carefully it’s not always as we remembered
But home’s not home cuz it’s perfect or else we’d never fit…
For some it’s four walls and a painted front door
Smells of apple crumble and coming back for more
For some it’s much less tangible like fleeting memories of a dream
It constantly eludes them on the blurry edges of their feeling
Oh home won’t you come find me?
For I am tired of searching
Perhaps you’ll surprise me with a visit one day
When I’ve forgotten what you mean to me
Perhaps you’ll wander in as I sit with a cup of tea
And dear friends
Perhaps you’ll join us at the table as we share food and stories
Perhaps you’ll creep in gradually
When I no longer care about what I wear
Or the state of my hair
Like a well thumbed book, I’ll be easily read
Perhaps you’ll enter with a song and a dance
When I am just being myself