Home To Me Poem by Ina SchrodersZeeders

The tired houses leaning side by side
The rusty bicycle you always ride
The fisherman whose ship is work and pride
They all are home to me

The sand that’s blowing on the lonely beach
The waves that bring the shore a treasure each
The wrinkled hand that’s always there to reach
How that is home to me

The mother waiting on the windy pier
The cry of seagulls that are always here
The far away sons and the one who’s near
So much is home to me

The grandchild who’ll be born in fall
The silent men who’ve seen it all
The drunk man waiting for the final call
That all is home to me