My Home

Home to me doesn't

necessarily mean

the city I was born in.

Nor does it mean the

home in where I

rest my head.

Home to me is the

arms of a loved one I

can easily fall back into.

Home is the warmth

of a smile that I haven't

seen in some time.

Home is the many

laughs of hearing the

same dumb joke again.

Home is a pick up

volleyball game and

running drunk at 2am.

Home, is not the fixed

location everyone

assumes it is.

Home is the family and

the friends that I have

made throughout the years.

Home is the island that

travels with me. Whether

or not there here physically.

Home is with me wherever

I go. For home lies within

my memories and my soul.