No Place Like Home

In a picture of the past
you stand on a balcony
of an old building
in the Netherlands
where I was born
where lions once roared
battles were fought
music was played
life was mourned
and celebrated
And as you look
do you look for me
into the future
with eyes, with arms
that are my home
in a country that wasn’t



  1. I do wonder what we mean by home. So often it seems to be who we are with as we get older, the sense of place seems to be less important as life takes us to different places to work. Just my experience of course.

    Liked by 1 person

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