The far away I go
I look back and miss my home
Not just the four walls I lived in
But those wrong letters I drew.
Where the pictures of my childhood hung
And the place where I first stepped

Home is where attachment lies
And the memories reunite.
Good or bad , the days we spent there
Crawling on the ground to be sitting in a wheelchair
The home saw so much

I used to fall down and rose
Those floors knew my step
Those roof knew my aim

I once built a dollhouse and called it a home
Now that I'm old I know what makes a house a home.