Favourite chair by the fire,
daily paper in your hand.
Children’s voices from the hall.
Cat curled up on your lap.
Wife in the kitchen cooking tea.
Home, the place you always want to be.
Eye lids are heavy,
after a long days work.
Relaxation is only a substitute for sleep.
The wistful words of your wife,
penetrate your drowsy mind.
Home is where the heart is,
a place of peace of mind.
David Harris
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/home-68/
