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by: Hazim Ziyadah

I remember the past years,,
When birds sing to wake me up,,
and I reach out for the light outside my window,,
as I push it wide open to take a glance at my world,,
I breathe life in and I don't want to let it out,,
There is nothing better than home,,
no matter how bad it might seem,,
I always pictured home in my dreams,,
how I grew up in warmth,,
When it is time for everyone to sleep,,
the streets would tempt me to stay up forever,,
so I and my days get to walk side to side,,
and I through all the sadness behind,,
feeling the cold breeze of the silent empty streets,,
Time seems to flow to when I have to leave,,
and you never know what you got till you lose it,,
Years go by looking for a place to call mine,,
but nothing seems to be real but home,,
Where I came from..

Hi Hazim, I like your 'Home' - a bit back to the womb or back to the nursery maybe, or perhaps that loyalty to roots feeling. Reminds me of the folk song 'Wild Rover' - "I never will be a wild rover no more".

Keep it up.