home is where my heart is
My home does not consist of material things. It does not consist of a fire place or a white picket fence with flowers all around. My home has a bed, a pillow and a window. Although it is not the nicest of décor or in a cushy neighborhood, I call it home. Its private and warm and for now it is mine.
On the night stand is a picture of the two most beautiful children I call my own. I am grateful that they are mine and content that I have raised them to know right from wrong and good from bad. I have instilled good values in them and know they will make the right choices and decisions. My home has four walls and keeps me safe from harm.
I keep a close watch on my surroundings making sure everything is in its place. Although no one knows who I am. I try to keep a distance between me and them. Not letting them know who I am. My secrets are safe with me as I glimpse at a few strangers passing by. Only smiling if eye contact is made and a slight nod of hello. The unfamiliar surroundings of my new home smell of stale rain and moth balls, but I am no longer a prisoner of my own will.
Fear not for me, I am strong and this too shall pass. My home is where my heart is and right now my heart is here.