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Yearning to Come Home

No Place Like Home

There is always something magical

In those spur-of-the-moment things

When you grab hold of every chance

To get away as far as possible

From routine and predictability

And letting yourself be ruled by spontaneity

In getting thrown into a sea of strangers

Yet feeling one with them, among them

Getting lost in their noise and chatter

Yet finding rhythm and going with the beat

Of the music that only you seems to hear from it

In feeling immense pleasure in things

As simple as waking up in a cozy little bed

Or witnessing the sun as it rises and sets

In that yet another corner of the world

That tugged at your restless heart and itchy feet

But then altogether realizing

That despite the charm of it all

The heart will always yearn to come home

And that longing is in itself… magical