Home

Home means

different things to

different people

There are some

among us who are

content

with nothing but a place

to sleep

Four blank walls

and a single

empty bed

There are others who think that

Home means Family

Two parents,

two-and-a-half kids

and a neutered

dog

All holding hands,

having dinner together and

going to church

on Sundays

And still there are some

who possess more grandiose

visions

They are not looking for a

Home

They are looking for

PROPERTY

a house they can

buy,

renovate,

then flip

They think that their wealth

will make them happy

They are all of them looking

in the wrong place

Home is not a place,

nor is Home

about the dollars signs or

the people

Home is

nothing but

a feeling

you get

when you crack open the front door

a certain sense of rightness and

belonging

like

a drink of cold water

on a hot day

a Mother's hard hug, so soft

against your small body

The lazy sun shining

on a weekend

where you have nothing

to do at all

Home is

the first beer you drink

after a long day's work, the soul of

two lovers

interwined in bed,

writhing in Ecstasy

with no thoughts of Death

Home is a

family, four walls and

an investment, yes

but at the end of the day

Home is

nothing more

than a feeling

a feeling of being

held, a feeling of

being held