The home is in me

The home is in me

 Home, to me at least, is not a physical place,
 but rather a state of mind.
It is not a building of any kind, situated to a certain place.
Home is in me, it is in my heart.
It is not restricted to boundaries of walls nor the boundaries of national borders.
I carry home with me, wherever I go.
 I make my home along the way.

Sometimes my home has been in a tiny island at the fisherman's cozy quarters,
where the fireplace has kept us both warm in the rainy misty days.
Sometimes my home has been in a very spacious,
modern  swiss chalet.
My home has also been in a cute little caravan,
 for quite some time actually.
It has also been in a farm surrounded by green fields and curious little woollies.
My home has been also one bunk bed in a hostel.

Home to me, is a state of mind.
I never consider myself homeless,
even when I don't have that one place just for myself,
 where my nametag decorates the door.

Home is in my heart, and in my head.
Home is, where I feel safe, and alive.