Nomadic Home

It was never a warm bed to rest,

always a warm hug whether welcoming, or with departure.

It was never streets aligned with houses designed in familiar features

but smiles and greetings from foreign waves or familiar faces.

it was never a neighborhood or towns,

but the roads that spanned through them, connecting them all

It was never somewhere you could pinpoint on a map or globe,

but it traveled further than any cartographer could ever possibly map

It was never still or settled,

but stirred and moving,

Simply it was wherever my love was allowed,

and where my love allowed me to go.