Home is not warmth
Home is not happiness, or tears, or excitement
It's not the smell of chocolate chip cookies
Or fresh cut grass
It's not the owls hooting or the sound of traffic
Home is not warm summer breeze cutting through the living room
Home is not fresh cut watermelon
It's not where you read by hallway light way after bedtime
Home is not music
Home is not a bike ride around the neighborhood
And it's not necessarily where your heart is
Home is not early mornings or late nights
Home is not the stars that illuminate the night sky
It's not mac and cheese with hot dogs and it's not your first filet minon
Home is not a flurry of snow or the crash of thunder
Home is not a flickering light or a patch of roses
It's not poker nights, sleepovers or movies
Home is not the books you alphabetize or the clothes you sort in the closet
Home is not the nooks and crannies you explored as a child
Home is a word
It's just a word
It doesn't mean anything unless you let it
