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Home,Where the heart Is
The heart is where the home is found,
wherever we may so roam, or we go,
Though we all try to return there some day,
seems so strange to us, to show.
Within us each our memories are so held,
and here, only we are to know,
Always to change in its appearance,
and never quite the same, as we grow.
The times spent there were the grandest ones,
and all to be held down deep inside,
The growing up years, full of joys and tears,
shall in our memories, there to abide.
The running feet and fun filled days,
spent in warm Summers and the Springs,
Are the stuff of the richness, life has to hold,
and of a fine upbringing, it rings.
Our memories may fly to the far away times,
and to bring them back, if we could,
A fondest farewell we all must but give,
for it is the right thing and this we should.
To hold each year in a hand's firmest grip,
and in warming arms, within our minds,
This to be our own resolve, keeping its wonders,
the finest days, as then each so resigns.
Home is where the heart is to be found,
and we hold their memories within our mind,
There it shall remain and to be always the same,
as our many years shall all turn, in kind.
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