What Home Means To Me

What Home Means To Me Home, where everyone can be themselves, come join us while sitting, take a book off the shelf.Look around you, the world you live in, this is not just a house, a home comes from within.Where you feel safe, and can talk about your feelings, take your time, everyone is healing.A breath of air, familiar, deep, where worries soften, secrets sleep. Home isn't solely a place to be, but a silent symphony.Not furniture arranged with care, though comfort dwells and settles there. It's the chipped mug I hold in hand, the scent of spice across the land, that curls through the kitchen, warm and mild, a memory etched, a cherished child. Home is the comfort in a hug, a shared glance, like a silent plug. It's the laughter echoing through the hall, a friendly call, answering all. It's the quiet hum of presence near, a gentle knowing, taking away all fear. Wherever you are, staying near, or very far, just keep in mind, your home is more than a house, your home is kind. So home is less than a house of stone, and more a place where we’ve been known, where roots run deep, and spirits soar, and all that matters, we adore.