A place called Home

She cradles me with her warm arms She is always there, never gone without a trace left The light from her door shines oh, so bright After the lonely walk home late at night I seem to find myself constantly asking: Who is home? What is home? Home is where I belong, Where I feast on my mom’s mouthwatering homemade chicken curry Spices upon spices, sweets upon sweets, And the delicious taste of thousands of memories Where I cry sometimes without explanation from movies But laughter always seems to trudge along No matter how far I run or how much I try to ignore, She will never leave, nor forget that I am coming back Over mountains or rivers, oceans, or things out of sight She will always be there, waiting, without complaining Recalling the stories read at night, huddled up in bed The sweet voice of lullabies, sung after dark The sun gleaming through the curtains in the morning The screen blinding my eyes, from early morning TV shows And when I walk past every room, I will be overcome with nostalgia The sound of eggs sizzling on the pan Eraser shavings scattered across the floor, As still as a stick bug when my mom falls asleep on the couch I know I will always be happy, When I am at home