home

Sometimes I feel the world of sorrow

encroaching on my heart.

A steady beat

(drums, drums)

on bruises set long ago.

Taking away, slowly,

Life, life abundant.

I'll recover, I think

I should like to recover.

Strange, how home is always

at its most beautiful,

no matter when.

Stone walls and wood

and brick

and trees!

There are oak trees here

to sit under and

an ocean full of algae.

Strange, how home will

always be most beautiful.

Yet, it is fading away

and I may never again feel

at home,

at this home.

I'm left wondering

where home is.

Ready to belong

to my own.

Instead of belonging,

I'm letting go of so many

things that once were

Mine.