The Warmth Of A Place Called Home
Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody is glad you came,
They might not know your name,
But the stories are all the same
Tales of hope and dreams,
Despite how things seem.
Strangers will greet you
And nobody is too busy to be rude.
Kindness comes without a disguise,
And is reciprocated with knowing eyes.
You are home.
Children chasing tyres down the trail
Stop to wave at cars driving by,
And shriek with laughter,
When the driver waves back
And honks their horn.
The laughter is infectious,
Despite the new taxes
Smiles are warm and tax-free.
Google Maps won’t get you there,
Your bones know the way.
Straight past the newly surfaced highway,
Then powdery dust that clings to your feet,
Covering everything, hiding nothing.
Gates always open
You are home.
Where a stranger is kin and a friend is family,
And though the world may call you far,
Past city lights and who you are,
There’s always that familiar song
Of a place you’ve missed so long
The warmth of the place called home.
Mawuya, Welcome.
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