Home is not a building,
if you think outside the box.
It's not place made out of wood,
of bricks, or even rocks.

Home is not four equal walls,
each filled with memories.
Nor is home a place to sleep,
or store the groceries.

Home is not a concept,
to think so is a lie.
It's not a place where people live,
until the day they die.

To have one is a blessing,
of this I have no doubt.
But think of what home really is,
and what it's all about!

Home is the arms of the woman,
who holds you tenderly.
who freely gives her love to share,
so un-conditionally.

Home is the way she makes you feel,
when your day of work is done.
It's the pounding deep inside your chest,
that tells you she's the one.

Home is every moment spent,
treating her like a queen.
It's why you tell her she's the only one,
who will ever fill your dreams.

Don't hold back kind words of praise,
or tears of joy you feel.
Show her what she means to you,
and why your love is real.

Listen to her when she cries,
and hold her 'til she's through.
Cherish those sweet moments friend,
'cause they will strengthen you.

I know these words sound awkward,
and may not make much sense.
But trust me it's a lesson learned,
and why I seem so tense.

The reason that I wrote this poem,
is simple, plain, and true.
Only a few will understand,
and know what they must do.

When I awake each morning,
to this empty life, alone.
I see how much I wish I had,
a home to call my own!

Originally written May 29th, 2005
Dann G.J. Denis
Karmaklutz