Our home is not a stack of bricks,
With topping to stay dry.
It is a place of refuge,
Where our fledglings lie.
Our home is not just real estate,
Some money to be counted.
Our home is where our love is stored,
For others to encounter.
Our home is not a place to rest,
Tie up the hitching post.
Our home is where we share our lives,
With those we love the most.
Our home is not some trophy place,
To show how much we own.
It’s where we have our friends over,
To give, and love and groan.
Our home is not here for long,
The time will come soon when.
Another family needs a home,
New cycles will begin.
Our home is not a place to lust,
Or mourn over losses.
Our home is a place for hearts,
A tower of warm colossus.
Our home is not a swimming pool,
Or sunsets every night.
But visions of our shared deep love,
Resound our every plight.
Our home is where our love is kept,
Right here within our souls.
Our home is just a blanket for,
Cocoons of memories foaled.
So dear wife, our home is here,
Right there within our eyes.
Loving souls, breaking bread,
As another day resides.