Home Sweet Home

My home sings a song that fills the void of loneliness and sorrow.

Uplifted by grandma’s prayer,

The sweet aroma of homemade apple pie, and delicious fried chicken.

This was specially crafted by the biblical hands that have blessed generations.

I take a sip of my pink lemonade engaging in the chatter as the family gathers around the table,

Inhaling spices and exhaling gratitude.

Grandma smiles as love continues to spread like wildfires across the room.

The eruption of life and comfort made us feel like life was perpetual, and time was an illusion.

Home feeds me the brilliant taste of yesterday.

We come together to capture the moment that will add to our photos albums of memories.

Our children play outside enjoying vanilla ice cream that always manages to land onto the warm cement.

Something spectacular was in the air, waving in the wind, and glowing with the sun.

Home sweet home.

It tastes like honey.

It sometimes stings like a bee.

Built on foundation, yet struggles were not far in between.

Shortcomings never stopped us from living what is perceived to be, “The American Dream”.

Home sweet home.

We always love the flowers but could never stand the pollen.

We all want to live yet we know death must follow.

No one enjoys the moment when life has to simmer down and we say our farewells to leave our domain of unity.

Home is the only place that seemed true to me.

Bursting with colors, dancing to the chakras of peace, and shining like crystals and diamonds.

Home is where the heart is.

A Paradise filled with tradition and abundance.

I lay on my bed and of course, a Queen must wonder,

"What will the next season encumber?",

I sigh, "why worry?"

Home is the place I travel to when I can’t fly with the angels in the sky,

It's the stars I can’t catch when the moon kisses the darkness,

It’s my children’s laughter and joy when they see me after a long day of work,

My grandma's angelic voice when I'm lost and don't know where to go

It’s my mother’s words of encouragement that bring me hope.

It is the time that I choose to devote.

It sounds like the waves that rush to the ears of the shore,

It is the adventure of life and reality that I am forced to endure.

Home is the place you long for on those treacherous roads.

When your tears have run out, your back is against the wall, and it seems like no one understands.

It is the place in your life that you desire so much, but sometimes realize you may never get back to.

Your current setting can be upsetting

A cardboard box is used for bedding.

Under a bridge, a shelter, a tent, a mansion, a condo, a house, a hotel

Wait, there is one thing that I know,

That where you reside doesn't make you better or less than anyone else.

There is a rich man alone somewhere that has all the money in the world but still can't buy a home.

He can buy a mansion and all the lavish things a poor man may desire.

Yet, the poor man can make a home out of sticks making it as strong as stone.

Under the warmth of these words,

Under this skin,

Within my mind,

The expansion of my thoughts,

My home resides within the very forest of my soul,

Growing with memories and sensations like a tree or a rose.

My home is the best, I suppose.

As the critters wait patiently by the door hoping I will give them a chance to explore,

This museum is filled with history,

They exude excitement and glow with mystery.

But I won’t let any invasion get to me.

My home is never my misery.

My home is more than something I can touch physically.

I sage to block out negativity.

I pray to the higher divinity.

My home is my pride, it’s my entity.

It’s where I reside, where I am meant to be.

Home is where the heart is.

Home is within me.