A place called home

There is a place called home
Where my spirit moves among the trees
And rises as sap into the leaves
And rustles as the wind beneath birds’ wings.


There is a place called home
Where yellow wildflowers sprinkle the grass
And always amaze me with their love for life
And fairies dance beneath the toadstools.

There is a place called home
Where my spirit sings to the drumbeat of rain
On the roof, and stands in awe to the moan
Of the wind wailing against the walls.

There is a place called home
Where my spirit soars to the twinkling stars
In a cloudless sky and trips across the Milky Way
And the moon rises laughing behind the hills.

There is a place called home
Where my spirit rests in the hollow of the valley
Nestling among verdant hills lit up with the laughter
Of a hundred, babbling, sparkling brooks.