Domesticated.

Home isn't a brick and mortar institution bound by paint and stone

Nor is it teary eyed goodbyes bringing woe into our lives

Home is a cozy bed after a long flight

A warm cup of coffee filling the air with delight

Home is a shoulder to cry on when you're feeling low

A tender hug to keep you close, connecting soul to soul

Home isn't written on your birth certificate, a record from your past

But a crackling fire with good company, bourbon in every glass

Home is the moss between your toes, a sweetness in the air

A winter breeze rustling leaves, flowing through our hair

Home is fresh cookies cooling by the window

A sunset paired with family, somewhere only we know.

Home isn't the same for you and me

For I crave a constant change of scenery

Cathartic road trips, endless discovery

Cascading mountains and Evergreens

Gloomy skies and almond-shaped eyes

Over the years I've grown to see

How home has shifted for someone like me

How it's no longer fueled by hunger and drive

But a desire to share the stories that make me feel alive

Home isn't about a traditional view

But rather turning a new leaf, starting anew.

Home has transformed into a curious surprise

Something that's burning behind these eyes

A passion that fuels the core within

Home is a journey that's yet to begin

A chapter of a book waiting to be written.