A Place I Call Home
Poem
Building, rebuilding and reinventing one
Home was where memories lived on
Where the seasons had different colors
Where I had my own place
And where I knew my place
I knew how to talk back
If to talk back or say nothing at all
I knew well the distinction
Between warm spring and cool summer
Between fowl intentions and bad mood
All the things that fill people’s lives
My life lured me out of my home
To the sunlit American West Coast
To Lands End where the ocean begins
That’s where I finally asked myself
What do I want from life now?
Now that I have been everywhere
San Francisco is not a bad place to call home
But, isn’t home that place that I’ve known?
Or a place where my children were born?
I’m done searching for answers alone
Home is a place I don’t want to let go
Home is where my desk fits just so
It’s a city I always smile at
Through the fogged-up airplane porthole
