The soul of home

Home is not brick nor beam nor stone, But where the heart finds space to roam. A quiet, place a soothing call, A refuge from the world’s sharp thrall. It whispers soft through windswept trees, In tender smiles in memories. Not built by hands, but by love and light A place where trust shows so ever bright. Home is the soil beneath your feet, The song of life both bitter, sweet. It’s where the past and future meet. A place where our imagination reaches its highest feat. The door which opens wide and warm, That shelters you from every storm. It’s in the fears, the joy, the fights, The sleepless hours, the quiet nights. Home is where you’re seen, and seen again, where hurt is healed, and hearts can mend. It’s in the words that sound so clear, where it feels that there is no end. Home is the truth we cannot see, yet in its grasp we are set free. A place where we can simply be, and live, and love eternally.