Home is where memories settle,
to drink the wine, to eat the bread.
Home is the place to ponder a good
sleep.
Home is at the end of a journey,
a moment or step to eternity - loved ones in tow.
Home is a familiar path lined with familiar smells,
distinct and framed with stacks of emotion.
Home is the sick day,
the warm forehead, the cough.
Home is the familiar - a cup for tea or
worn coat passed down to join us across
our journey, along our way.
Home is the pang of remembrance,
a tangible space, tradition.
Home is where we can wait for the final chapter of our lives , like an old friend holding the door open. Patiently waiting our last breath.
Home is the single right to be,
that travels to the next place, the next home.
Mar 2, 2010
Mar 2, 2010 at 9:30 AM UTC
Home is where memories settle,
to drink the wine, to eat the bread.
Home is the place to ponder a good
sleep.
Home is at the end of a journey,
a moment or step to eternity - loved ones in tow.
Home is a familiar path lined with familiar smells,
distinct and framed with stacks of emotion.
Home is the sick day,
the warm forehead, the cough.
Home is the familiar - a cup for tea or
worn coat passed down to join us across
our journey, along our way.
Home is the pang of remembrance,
a tangible space, tradition.
Home is where we can wait for the final chapter of our lives , like an old friend holding the door open. Patiently waiting our last breath.
Home is the single right to be,
that travels to the next place, the next home.
copywrite: elaine hart
02.03.2010