The pillow, I call home.

My head on the pillow, I close my eyes and spell home.

Behind my eyes, I forget where I am.

My head on the pillow, makes it home.

Rest a while, it is cold outside.

A long time ago, there was a lap,

I made my home.

My granny’s generous girth

Was safety, love, belonging.

Now my head on a pillow, gives me comfort and rest.

My legs have carried me through the day.

Laden with sorrow and joy. Tears that won’t shed.

The world in my backpack.

Even a fire, I can light, bringing me back

To the family hearth, giving warmth and food.

Those places, I needn‘t have gone.

Their stories haunt me,

The stares of the people follow me.

No point on this earth would I call home.

My head on a pillow, I am home.