Home

Where is ones home, As He passes through the corridor's of life Is it the bed that He was born onto Or the place, fate chose for him to die. Where is home for the Sailor Who sails the world upon a ship Is home a port He has docked into Or is home a well remembered crib. Where youth was a friend and tomorrow a dream. And sorrow and sadness was never seen. Where is home for the woman Who has had many different homes Where is home for the drifter Who loves nothing more to roam. Where wishes are still alive and never to far Where home is a dew drop, and sleep are the stars. Where is home for the child Who has lived many a childhood dream Where is home for the prisoner Who someday in life will be freed. Home is many different things Its a bedtime story or a childhood dream A piece of a wall or a blushing wife Or is it that hazy memory still never out of sight. Home is not where you lay your bones After a day of hardened work Home is not even the place that you stay When your feet have begun to hurt. Home my friend it might not even be The place where you currently do live For home my friend is not just a word But it is, where the heart is..... Randy L. McClave