The sound of home isn’t an
ordinary sound.
It’s the sound you hear
when your laughing with
your family.
It’s the sound you hear
when a guitar plays
from the corner of your
ear.
The way his guitar strums
and makes me feel warm
Inside, like warm tea going
down your throat.
The feeling of home isn’t an
ordinary feeling.
It’s the goosebumps you get
as a leaf blows by you.
The colour orange as a
constant reminder of your
Childhood, like the rain that
drips from the grey skies.
I can not define home with
just words, but i can with
silence.
The pitter-patter of rain
immune to me to become
the silence.
No birds or grasshoppers
chirping, not even any sound
from the wild thieves with
striped tails wondering in
the night.
Only the sound of memories
repeating in my head.
And the images repeating to
bring a smile to my face.
To make me think to myself,
that’s my home and i’ll never
forget it.
Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 5:52 PM UTC
The sound of home isn’t an
ordinary sound.
It’s the sound you hear
when your laughing with
your family.
It’s the sound you hear
when a guitar plays
from the corner of your
ear.
The way his guitar strums
and makes me feel warm
Inside, like warm tea going
down your throat.
The feeling of home isn’t an
ordinary feeling.
It’s the goosebumps you get
as a leaf blows by you.
The colour orange as a
constant reminder of your
Childhood, like the rain that
drips from the grey skies.
I can not define home with
just words, but i can with
silence.
The pitter-patter of rain
immune to me to become
the silence.
No birds or grasshoppers
chirping, not even any sound
from the wild thieves with
striped tails wondering in
the night.
Only the sound of memories
repeating in my head.
And the images repeating to
bring a smile to my face.
To make me think to myself,
that’s my home and i’ll never
forget it.
