That thing about being at home

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You know it when the air in the rooms has a warmth to it.
The light is just a shade mellower for you soul to feel comfortable in.
The music that drifts around is of the song that plays in your head and heart.
The comfort is not in the depth of the mattresses or the breadth of the sofa but an embrace.
The high ceiling does not bar your ambition
Instead that is where you hang your dreams to be picked and worked upon the next morn.
The ordinary is my routine yet I find a newness to it
Every time I walk back from the world in to my home

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