I long to be away, aching to break free from routine.
Weaving dreams of the blue sky, the endless greens and the tall ridges.
Waking to a sunrise, cooking a simple meal and mending my countable belongings.
Or climbing to the top of the hills, soaking in the view as far as the horizon exists.
My eyes long for those meandering paths, that take you back in time, old and new sitting along side.

But as the dawn nears, I sink in sadness, full of longing, and swim in grief.
I shall miss you is an under statement, I shall never leave is a mirage.
I built it all, I tend to it, It has a piece of my soul.
Every corner, every nook, cared for, lived in and yet still weaving memories.
Aging with me, defining me, sometimes being an identifier for my persona.
It’s weird to love the inanimate, but I can’t help profess my feelings.
Made of brick and mortar, put together over the years, like the pieces of a worn out puzzle.
Indeed, home is where the heart is.