Home
My specific place is home
And home is wherever I am
Across the years it morphed
From a Parisian suburb pavilion
To a three bedroom brick-veneer house
In the Australian bush
From a caravan to a lodge
To an hotel room to a dorm at uni
Across continents and countries
Its shape or form
Never mattered
But to feel safe and comfy
Once enclosed within its walls
Neither did the length of times
Spent in this temporary shelter
For this is the crux of the matter
All these places are but temporary
As we get older we change
As we change so our needs too
But one thing remains
The heartbeat that makes it a home
Once it stops the home disappears
For it was only an illusion.
Lucette C. Bailliet
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