Home is a memory,
never a place.
A sliver of time,
we randomly embrace.
Not confined by four walls,
it’s a peaceful moment.
We conjure it up,
to ponder for a spell.
During an instant pause,
a precious feeling,
remembered well,
while putting aside,
the chaos of life.
We cherish its blossom.
Hoping it doesn’t whither,
before the memory unfolds.
Most often it’s shrouded by thoughts;
found only from time to time,
when least expected.
Until here we are,
again, you and I,
sitting on the front porch,
swinging back and forth,
gazing and embracing,
warm breeze catching us unawares;
savoring for a moment,
the true sense of home.