Home isn't here.
Home is the place where I feel you near
Home is where you grew up.
Home is where you died.
Home is far away.
My home is slipping away.
When I come home
I will light the fire
Pick up your tools
And just hold them.
Just keep them close
They where once yours
You once used them
I wish you used them now.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Home by Gunhild H.. )
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