What Is Home
What is home?
Please, stop and ponder.
Is it walls of which we’re fonder
than of any safe enclosure
where we keep our cool composure?
Is it ceilings, doors and floors?
But those things you find in stores
and in offices and schools,
in asylums meant for fools.
What is home? I ask again.
Just a hiding place from pain?
But a haven from life’s storms?
Could be so… but campus dorms —
even rooms by weekly rates —
offer shelter from the Fates.
What is home? It’s not a lot.
I can tell you what it's not:
not a place and not a time;
not a word and not a rhyme;
not your rent and not your food;
not your sleep or gloomy mood.
Well, I’ve kept you in suspense.
Talking nonsense? Talking sense?
Time to crack the envelope.
Time for what we call 'straight dope.'
What is home?
In my plain view,
home is very simply… you.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
