No hearth calls to me....
It's the hearts that beat
That binds me
Traps me
Snares me
I have no place
That I can call my own
Bricks put together
Are a house to me
Not a home.
It's the hearts that beat
That binds me
Traps me
Snares me
I have no place
That I can call my own
Bricks put together
Are a house to me
Not a home.
4 comments:
So sad. It is true that it is the people who make a place a home. It is wonderful when we can find them.
And what if these people who make a home are scattered around...
lovely explorations.
bless all.
join us today.
beautifully put
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