Home

You are home,

Everything familiar, born in you, passed to me.

You are home,

A shining light from land when I’m floundering at sea.

You are home,

With eyes closed I can always find my way there.

You are home,

A warm, fluffy towel wrapped around my soaking wet hair.

You are home,

Cups of tea and chocolate biscuits at half past four.

You are home,

An open house with the key hung safely behind the door.

You are home,

A partisan roar heard above all others.

You are home,

The morning waft of bacon luring me out of my covers.

You are home,

A tough love skelp with the back of a wooden spoon.

You are home,

Every fibre of my fabric, every item in every room.

You are home,

Where hearts mend, eyes dry; brave faces worn.

You are home,

The thread holding us together, sometimes frayed, never torn.

You are home,

Even when new souls settle and inhabit within old walls,

And every trace of us is wiped away; our fingerprints, our DNA,

You are still home.

You are home.

My home.