comfort of home
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My favorite road, the one I picture while writing
The stretch between Kimball and Hill
Lemon orchards and pine trees I assume row after row
West, the ocean will show its horizon if you are lucky
We are taught
In this life
To keep breathing
To continue with moving motion
Of our hands correlating with our feet
parading helplessly through
the streets of wherever it is we call home.
HOME
Home is where the heart is.
It‘s where I hang my hat.
The comfort of my Dad’s chair
Is usually where I sat.
