Not just the walls or roof above,
But echoes filled with care and love.
A chair still warm, a kettle’s song,
The place where all the hearts belong.
The creaky floors that tell our tales,
The scent of rain on windowed trails,
Photographs in silent frames—
Names and faces, joys and flames.
It’s laughter spilled at dinner time,
The quiet peace, the bedtime rhyme.
A hug that waits, no need to roam—
For in that space, you’ve found your home.
It grows with you, then lets you go,
But tugs your heart, soft, steady, slow.
And no matter how far you may roam,
A part of you is always home.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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