We start our stories on tentative feet,
Afraid of falling, though we know we must.
We take our time, still yet to weep,
In blissful ignorance that our homes will be dust.
We grow and we go; we walk and we change,
Travelling; finding new places to belong.
We take and we give, never staying the same,
Sometimes questioning why we should go on.
We see the reason in the way the sun rises,
Or when we make someone we love smile.
It doesn't dull the pain or soften the unpleasant surprises,
But sometimes it makes it worth the while.
All things must end; this I know,
Houses and families all must fall.
Home is a place I lost long ago,
But maybe, home was never a place at all.