Home to Me

The sound of tide washed stones and shells,
The pealing of earthbound wedding bells.
The sight of village green with inn,
The children with their playground din.
The circling seagulls squawking shout,
The Saturday nights and the going out.
The shady spot under leafy tree,
All these and more, say Home to Me.

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The music made by young and old,
The stories that our grandfolks told.
The friendship of both near and far,
The frosty night with the shining star.
The Sunday lunch at 2 o'clock,
The foolish fools we love to mock.
The this and that that I could be,
All these and more, say Home to Me.
Keith Murphy©