It’s more than just a place
more than just some people,
more than loving others,
or being loved by them.
It’s more than all my memories,
more than sights or sounds,
more than tastes or smells,
more than what I’ve found.
Is home more than where my heart is?
Or where I hang my hat?
Is that where home is really at?
Is it true, as they say,
it’s not where I should stay,
never shall I pass that way again?
Maybe so, maybe not,
maybe home’s a feeling,
I felt somehow once before,
something just like that.
Like when I thought I knew the score.
Home, the best place
I’ve ever been before.
Look both ways if home is where ya stays.
Mind the gaps in floors for traps, never can we go back.
Our Literary Journey 
Dear Bill,
You raise many questions. I’ve always believed that home is where the heart is. Nicely done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you, Rochelle.
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I enjoyed your poem, Bill😊 Your questions made me stop and think. Home is more than one place for me. Maybe it’s being raised a military brat, but the south will always be the home of my childhood. I have a new home in this next chapter of my life but I think it takes time and memories before it will truly feel like home. 😊
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Glad you liked it, Sue.
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Home means different things to different people. A thought-provoking piece indeed.
My short story
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Thank you, Keith.
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This was truly lovely, Bill
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Thank you, Dale.
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That was lovely. Home is where I rest. Home is where he is. Home is where the trees are. ❤
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Glad you liked it, Joey.
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