Home

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