This is not my home
But a road I used to know
Painted in a different town
With different streets and ways around.
I close my eyes and slowly breathe
As the memories begin to weave:
A country store, and long walks
Snow-covered trees, and deep talks.
Days like these I start to miss
The feeling of freedom and pure bliss.
But if this street can find a way
To the place where I must stay
It may be a simple sign
To let go of home and redefine.