The Search For Home


A place to lay my head I search

to dream my dreams so sweet.

A bough or branch for me to perch,

to rest my weary feet.

For endless time it seems I’ve roamed

to places near and far,

to find the dream I’ve heard called home,

I’ve wished upon the stars

I’ve drifted west and then back east

and the wandering goes on,

the wandering in me.

Yet in northern snow and southern heat

I’ve found no home,

no home to be.

But still I look and look I will

past mountains and valleys and waters so still.

And if by chance I find that place

which God above has blessed with grace,

where in my heart I find just a trace

of peace and hope and love,

then I’ll close my eyes and rest my head

and be joyful that at last I know

I’ve reach the place which I often dreamt

I’ve reached the place called Home

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© 2015 by B.M. Simpson