4

Four is never simple,

Nor is it easy to understand,

There are lots and lots of four letter words,

That are just harder to comprehend.

Home is one of these words,

And so is love, hate, lost, want,

Need, good and hope are more,

So short, but so hard to know.

Some say home should be a place of love,

But sometimes we hate going back,

When we're lost we know we want to return,

Especially when we are hurt.

So here's another riddle for you,

Is it four walls that make the home?

Is it where the sun is warmth, the rain is right,

A fort from dangers outside?

Or is it those inside who make it shine,

Wherever we happen to be,

Why is it that the things we need,

Are so often such luxuries?

My home, my family, we are four,

Two parents, two children and a dog that's no more,

At times it'd be dark, at times it'd be bright,

And sometimes it'd just be alright.

But what I knew in my heart was always true,

I'd always have a place to go back,

No matter how dark, nasty and twisted I grew,

In time they'd accept me for all that I lacked.

So what is home, and what is love,

These are luxuries we just need to learn.

But when I'm there I feel, and inside I'll know,

That I am finally home.