Home: The Final Destination

Home — in a proper understanding, you see, Is not as plain as it sounds to me. A vibrant world, a different sky, A plane with people waving goodbye. Home is not where your house belongs, But where your heart feels strong. Midst a storm, where lightning bolts glow, Your home — you see — is the star of the show. A cloud in the sky, a pebble in the sea, It’s not just that; it means more to me. Somewhere you wake up to be who you are, Somewhere you know isn’t far. Your home can change, from here to there, It’s like a feeling — happiness, you share. Home is a metaphor, a phrase that begins, And never quite ends with those in your kin. Now while the appearance is cozy and simple, The fire it holds will always rekindle. Home is a place my love shall go, Starting from the door, swinging to and fro. Opening the new life, a new place, Going toward your future, face-to-face. The steady patter of rain on the window glass, The hum of golf balls on backyard grass. When you first move in, it feels unsettling, But then it’s normal, natural, strengthening. A sprout doesn’t start the way it was, It grows and learns from what it may cause. Home is one of your strongest relations, A place to end; your final destination.