A place called Home

The place we call Home,
A feeling of Oneness with the universe
of belonging and identity
A place the heart craves and longs for
You need not be born there,
but still, it gives a homely feeling
A nest that fills you with love and eternal bonding
Perfume of your favorite dish,
friends you made and familiar alleys or busy roads
The joy it gives you,
a moment that brings flashes of memories
We call it home
The tears we nurse as we go to the past,
conversations that stay with us forever
 Home is personal
the equation we share with the place
No one can come between us
It's a sacred relationship
Pure as milk
Magic bubbles making a ring in our spirit
Roaming freely without the scare or fear
It tastes like marshmallow
It's home to me,
my feeling and emotions
The perfume wafting from street food
the traffic and quirkily crazy inhabitants
It sends the feeling of the homely pigeon
It's home to me.

Happy Sunday

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