The Four Letter Word
Home is
Where the heart is
Where the hearth is
Where the hurt is
Where the dirt is
Where the shirt is
Where the skirting board is
Where the flirting and farting is
Where the dancing and darting is
Where arriving and departing is
Where we stop - if we’re lucky
Home is
Where we tell the tale
Of stories forged when we set sail
Around the globe and beyond the pale
Over a garage-brewed ale (or two)
Before returning on familiar tides
To domestic rows
Where arbitration collides
What can you do?
Home is
Where I can be true
Where we see right through
The masks and falsehoods we push outside
Where false modesty died (long ago)
Where laughter cried
And joy sheds a tear
We simply stand – right here
Won’t you?
Home is
Where I feel alone
This internal landscape all my own
Forget the setting sun
The mountain view, the sea’s dark green crystal hue
Even Northern Lights dancing yellow and blue
Don’t pass me by
It is only I
And you know who I am -
Don’t you?
Home is
Where I welcome the stranger
Seal off danger
Play the Lone Ranger
Protecting the occasional few
Whose safe space splintered in two
For whom home is but a dream
Hope – but almost obscene
To mention.
Dare you?
Home is
Where I lay my hat
Shake the dust off the welcome mat
Where I can be fat (and loved too)
Where there’s tons of tat – and treasure
In equal measure
Where I find my pleasure – and pain
Where I murmur the refrain:
‘There’s no place like home’
Do you?
By my friend
Peter Barrett
