Home is where you were
five or six years old
when cognition dawned and
the world started making sense
that there was more than candy
and ice creams and more than
the warmth of mother's lap.
More than Barnie and bikes
and more than loving dad.
You were the maker of
your own world. The world
you carry within yourself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem