Where we call home

A place where food is cooked
a place that has been booked for peace
a place you feel at ease
a place where love is grease and wheel
a place where you can feel
a place where one can heal his wound
a place where one is pruned
a place where one is tuned to grow
a place where we eat dough
a place where chickens crow to death.

Ruddapoet

Click Next To Continue Reading This Post

Tagged as: