Home

I once believed that home was just a place, My native Ukraine, where memories embraced. Each cherished corner, every quiet lane, A world familiar, where my heart would remain. The apple tree, in spring, would gently bloom, A winding path led to the river’s tune. The endless fields, the forests' fragrant air, Each blade of grass whispered, “You belong here, where you care.” But time rewrote the life I used to know, An ocean stretched between my heart and home. And now I see, it isn’t walls or land— It’s love, it’s family, it’s the touch of a hand. My home is my mother, with warmth in her eyes, Her lullabies soft as the evening skies. My home is my father, so steady, so wise, Who says, “Together, we’ll conquer the highs.” My home is my sister, her laughter so bright, It colors the world in hues of delight. It’s the circle we form in the glow of the night, Where joy feels eternal, where everything’s right. Though memories call to the life left behind, Where the sun kissed my village, so gentle, so kind, I’ve learned that home is not tied to the past— It’s where hearts beat together, a bond that will last. We’re crafting a future, with courage, with grace, Side by side, in this new, uncharted space. For home is a haven, love’s steady embrace, That warms us, no matter the time or the place.