In the quiet dawn, where dreams dissolve,
I tread familiar paths, where memories evolve,
Each step a whisper, a story retold,
Of a place called home, where hearts unfold.

The road winds gently, through valleys and peaks,
Echoes of laughter, the solace one seeks,
Time may have changed, the faces I see,
Yet the spirit of home, remains wild and free.

Beneath the old oak, where shadows play,
Childhood secrets, in whispers convey,
The scent of blossoms, the rustle of leaves,
A symphony of love, that never leaves.

As twilight descends, I reach the gates,
A journey completed, where love awaits,
Home is a haven, where souls entwine,
In the embrace of warmth, forever divine.