The sun fills the sky
It beats down onto the tops of the buildings
The brick roofs being illuminated by the golden glow
Below the roofs, the walls are a pale yellow

The cobblestone streets worn from use
Shoes from around the world walk across the city

A city that to many is a short stay
But a city that to few is home

And to me it is home
It was home
No longer am I still physically there
And I feel torn
Not feeling at home here or there

But the sky there is the same here
The sun that beats down on the buildings
It too is the same

Because home is not always a city, or a neighborhood, or a house
Home is where the sun is
It’s where you feel it beat down on your face
Making you feel warm and content