Vishal Dutia

It’s the porch light, the front door, the wallpaper,
That brings back memories, of love and of care.
The creaky floors, the cozy hearth,
A place to call home, from the ends of the earth.

It’s the smell of baking, the sound of laughter,
The memories of home, that linger long after.
The pictures on the walls, the familiar decor,
That welcomes us back, to a place we adore.

It’s the overwhelmingly cold marble,
That spans the very floors of the soul,
A place of comfort, where we feel whole.

© VishalDutia