Meaning of Home

Home is the morning’s quiet song, A place where I’ve belonged all along. The creak of floors that know my pace, The warmth that time cannot erase. It’s not just bricks or painted walls, But laughter down familiar halls. The scent of spices in the air, A cozy couch, a weathered chair. It’s where my fears are met with grace, Where joy leaves traces I can’t erase. A haven built with care and time, Where love turns moments into rhyme. No matter how far I may roam, My heart will always lead me home.