Homing Bird

I have been to verdant hills watch moonrise on sea at gloam nothing compares to what it feels when I am back to my home. Have trekked faraway mountain pass caravaned on rolling desert gone to icy heights where grows no grass coming home I found my heart. When travel bug bites my feet eyes beg for the unseen shore I wander far but soon retreat beckons me sweet home's door. I roam the unknown in wanderlust weary of the cramped furlong but end of day in twilight dust feel the home is where I belong.