Whilst I sit alone,
On the verge of a dream,
I think of home.
I remember leaves falling,
The tall grasses I\'d roam,
Is it my name the wind is calling?
To the person reading this poem,
As scary as it may seem,
Don\'t miss the sprawling.
If home is in the heart,
Don\'t let it turn to stone,
If you make it less of a dream,
Don\'t let it get in the way,
You may find it more appealing.
If you realize you\'ve grown,
Don\'t forget,
You\'ve only started walking,
Just yesterday.