Thinking of home I dream of childhood days,
Though thoughts are clouded with the mist of time;
Rose tinted reminiscent backward gaze
Conceals childhoods’ real or imagined crime.
For home recalls the distant days of school,
When daily lessons endlessly conspired
To fill our heads with knowledge as a tool
That aided us however life transpired.
Many went to garner greater learning,
Away from home, alone for the first time;
Some remained to make a life and earning,
Continuing ancestral paradigm.
All those that did from childhood home depart
However long their sojourn may have been,
Still keep a kernel deep within their heart
That echoes to the calls of kith and kin.
For though they scatter all around this world,
Embracing different cultures as they roam;
No matter which strange flags may fly unfurled,
The truth is that there is no place like home.