Ever since I was young I always longed for home
Was it in a tall oak tree looking over the hill country
In a muddy pasture with horses
A small condo with a view of a bustling street
Or a large house in the suburbs

Each day chasing every tide.
Each wave languidly crashing  over my hair as it smells of sea salt and cold waters.
The dark clouds that take up the sky, full of mysteries and the crisp air.
Or maybe in a large empty field  with no one near, yellow and orange flowers around me as the sun beats down on my tan shoulders.

Maybe, in the bright star of Sirius, light years way.
Maybe in the cold rain dripping down my car window
Maybe in the barren trees.
Maybe in the warm dusty desert.
Maybe in the green mist of the Amazon
Or the heavy air of the Himalayans.

I’ll tell you something it’s not here.