Long ago I found hope,
In a distant place called home,
People talked of wondrous things,
Like Unicorns and magic beings.
I dreamed of home long ago,
A place that I could call my own,
Where fantasies came to life,
And we lived without any deadlines.
Home was sweet, and a little sour,
It tasted like butterbear in Harry Potter,
It was always new and never got old,
It was where flavours came to explore.
Always safe, never alone,
Home was more than the people it would hold,
Always larger on the inside than out,
It was a magician's trick, without his pout.
I miss my home, I miss it's feel,
But it wasn't a building, or anything concrete,
Nor the people, who made it whole,
It feels a little funny, even saying so.
Home was always a vision to me,
A complex web of ethereal beings,
Home was made of paper dolls,
Not meant to be played with,
But just looked at from afar.
Even now for me it's cold,
Home is a memory just not mine to hold,
Perfect, delicate and out of reach to all,
Home is never mine, nor could it be yours.
All I hope is to find my neighbour,
Someone as lost with a hope to wander,
We'll play this game and pretend to be,
A family as whole as an empty nest can be.
Button eyed and cotton filled,
We'll compliment each other and forever be filled,
With the yearning thought of finding our home,
We'll live together while always being alone.