HOME IS WHAT WE MAKE IT

Home to me isn't a building or a structure like most would think, it's not even a place at all or a ship I can sink.

Home to me isn't a house made of bricks, it's not on top of a giant tree or in the woods with bears and sticks.

Home to me isn't a mansion or a castle, and most definitely not in a cardboard box with some asshole.

Home to me isn't on the beach with a seashell, or locked up with a criminal in a jail cell.

Home is a place I can feel safe to be, a place I can be myself, write and be free. It's a sense of nostalgia I can't really see, a sentimental longing for comfort and stability.

Home is affection and a hug that melts my heart, It's where I kneel at the foot of my bed and pray for a fresh start.

Home is remembering where I came from and aching for the past, the past that's gone and went by all so fast.

Home is an emotion or feeling that comes over me when I meet someone true, it's a place I can go when ever I'm feeling blue.

Home is family and grandkids running around, or a place I can go and not make a sound.

Home is spooning with the man I love on a cold winters night, or a calm place I can go to get my thoughts right.

Home is the scent of my lovers cologne to comfort me whenever he's gone, It's where I feel comfortable enough in my bikini to layout on the lawn.

Home is pictures on the wall lined up and down the hall, it's me looking forward to the season fall, which I love most of all.

Home is the memories I have of my sisters and I walking to the neighborhood store, It's the memories of me yelling at my brothers and the echo of a slammed door.

It's a place I can decorate and call my own, or a place to bake cookies when I'm super stoned.

Home is my hot firepit lit on a fall chilly night, it's the person enjoying it with me holding me tight.

Home to me is where my imagination runs wild and I can act like a child.

Home is warmth and pleasure, pleasure beyond measure.

Home is family coming to talk about old times and to visit, it's a place I can listen to any kind of music even explicit.

Home is my son's playing catch in the front yard with the football, it's me measuring my grandkids height on the wall and telling them their tall.

Home is my parents singing me happy birthday as loud as they can, It's where I cheer for the Raiders football, I'm a huge fan.

Home is where I can be completely comfortable in my own skin, It's where I can watch the performance my beautiful daughter stared in.

Home is where I care for my garden and talk to my plants, it's the only place I can walk around without any pants.

Home is where my ideas all come to life, it's where I will eventually be somebody's third wife.

Home is where we stay as a family during bad weather, it's where my adult kids still hang out together.

Home is the feeling that something's familiar, or where I can watch the latest thriller or listen to Mac Miller.

Home is where I comically try to play my grandpa's guitar, it's where my baby girl always practiced becoming a star.

Home is painting what comes to my mind and not being judged, it's where I try to shit done without needing to be nudged.

Home is building things for my family I know they'll enjoy for years, things to remember me by and hopefully shed less tears.