What is a Home?

Sometimes I feel similar to a little garden gnome Staring out into the enormous world Pondering,“ What is a home?” Is home an excuse? Is home just a building? A word that people abuse? Is home important, deserving of a gilding? Should home feel like I'm an orange-chested robin as it nests? I experiment with the word, On my tongue it rests, Twirled Should home be kept and hidden away, or said out loud to be heard? Is home’s only purpose taking up room in a dictionary? Is that all? A place where you can simply answer a telephone call? Sometimes I feel like I’m on a ferry Caught up on waves, feeling seasick Would being home pass the time, no longer hearing the clock tick? That’s all a home is and was? Stuck inside of a barred cage, A lion exhibited, Filled with rage because Being myself is prohibited Held my right to be free, To roam? Is that really a home? Or maybe when I’m home I feel glee. Maybe home is where I feel loved, Not where I feel as though I’m about to be shoved But surrounded by caring family and perhaps a special furry friend Who are with me until the very end. My head swirling with grand thoughts in bunches Eating both Canadian and Japanese foods such as nato for my delectable lunches Reading compelling fantasy and fiction books Trying out all the most chic, recent clothes, styles and looks Coming home to my nose gifted with delicious smells My mom heating up anko taiyaki, cooking and throwing out pale brown eggshells Creating a hilarious nonsense game, my sister and I Millions of memories that meet the heart, not just the eye Making home a home and not a building.