The Lost years

I've wandered off, far from home.

In search for something more.

Vacant streets in which I roam,

remain calm in the aftermath of war.

Once again left searching for answers,

Longing to loath in my perceived defeat.

Remembering past cancers,

I no longer recognize this street.

A place I once called home,

Is now the host of someone different.

A place I once called home,

has never felt more distant.

Maybe it's not a house which makes a home.

Your home may often change

As do seasons, as do we.

They say "Home is where the heart is".

I choose to wear mine on my sleeve.