Home is a memento

Wherever you go, place that you wanting to come back the most is a 'home'

That term, is a common word for them who have already had it

While me, I am still searching 

Maybe they are searching it, maybe somebody out there is still searching it too

That place, a place which became my shelter, a place to lean my back

Where I dive myself in a warm embrace when I encountered a heartless cold day

Where a warm sunlight peeked between window's curtain

When these eyes opened in a light bright morning 

Soothing this body when I encountered a struggling dried day

Where the afternoon breeze blowing at the terrace, possessing every inch of this skin

Calming and wafting this soul inside its windy sound

Later, that place became blurry, gloomy, static

Where gathered all of sadness, anger, hopelessness

A question disturbing, was still worth to call it a 'home'?

If all human said yes

And they won't stop searching

For me, was still worth I call it a 'home'?

Time flying, that place changed into a culmination of yearning

Then yes, I decided that still worth to call it a 'home'

Because of its yearning and memento

A link between the past, the present, and the future

Because of each inch of its touch, aimed for million mementos

Where I rise and stand in stepping up, accepting, and passing through

The old white fences, a memento of a naughty child

The footpath onto the front door, where I played with my fussy dog

The door and window, where I peeked to see if father and mother was coming home

The floor and wall, a silent spectator of my footsteps of a little kid growing

The terrace, the gathering of all culmination of yearning

A place for a reunion of a family, jokes from father and mother

Laughters of siblings

With the dog barking just like understanding our conversations

Together enjoying the sweetness of a silent night

And a little noise from vehicles that running on the road

That's what I am searching for

Maybe I will build it someday with another version