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Home is a bright pink crepe myrtle blowing in the wind.
His giggles and laughter while placing his feet in the sand.
Christmas lights wrapped around their hands, full of wonder and delight.
A mighty father making a roar, with all of his might.
A grin so big with that first bicycle tour down the road.
Training wheels coming off for the first time, and everything bold.
His gregarious smile while playing the drums.
A planter of bougainvillea with a bit of a green thumb.
Carving pumpkins with creative flare.
Watching Ginger Rodgers and Fred Astaire.
Home is a safety net where one sleeps tight.
When you lose it, nothing feels right.
Home was a haven where I once felt safe.
Nothing has been right ever since, all out of place.
There once was a teak wood table where Thanksgiving was served.
Full of magical smiles and prayers that were heard. 
Home has been lost for quite some time now.
I attempt to move on, but there is nowhere to go.
I’d rather bury my head in ten feet of snow.
Home was where love once shined on bright.
Full of grace, and kindness and magical delight.
Happy little family with little footsteps running about.
I’ve lived on the streets wondering where to find my home.
But it was stripped away from me and now I have darkness to roam.
Home was full of baby Einstein and Alan Jackson too.
With sweet summer days, and country songs blues.  
Through shadows, and memories I try to go back.
To find a safe place with family in tact.

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