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This is Home

it's not the places, but the loving faces, that really make a home

By Erica NicolayPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
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A word of comfort, or loving touch is given,

And I am met by hugs as I come in.

I feel the joy so swiftly warm my heart,

That in a wave, it floods my every part.

Filled up with love until I can’t contain—

It will remain. I whisper,

“I will never be alone. This is home.”

It doesn’t matter whether they’re of kin;

These people that I love are welcoming.

They do not live together, that is true…

But when I see them, ah! My hope’s renewed.

Home for me means family,

But not the kind that makes the family tree.

It’s friends whose love has run so deep

It stays with me no matter where I sleep,

Or what I do.

Home isn’t just a house, or place,

For love can still pass on through time and space.

As long as I’m with those who truly care,

And guard my heart, and love me—home is there.

vintage
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About the Creator

Erica Nicolay

I have written stories since I was thirteen and enjoy releasing short stories online. I have published one book about the Hitler Youth Program titled True to the End, which you can buy on Amazon.

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