My Home

I always thought that home was a place,

A place with four walls and a pointed roof,

With rooms and furniture,

A battlefield or a meadow;

Destruction or peace.

I always thought that home was unmoving,

Assigned and clinical.

I always thought that home was a place,

Until I met you.

My home is warm and soft,

Always moving, yet never changing,

My home beams with happiness and with laughter,

My home weeps and it yells.

My home holds the key to my soul,

The only key,

My home fills me with love and with joy,

My home will forever be you.