Home Is Where The Heart Is

Home is where the heart is,
Yes, I do believe it's true.
But where exactly does my heart reside,
I can't tell.. can you?

My heart is not just with people,
it's also with things and times.
It dwells in all experiences that time has left behind.

It's in the first bike I rode,
the first time I cried.
It's in times when I was hurt,
And in my times of pride.

In the time I sang in joy,
It's in the nights I wept.
On the roads I walked all my life,
it's in antiques that I've kept.

All the times spent with family
and all the little jokes
All the times I fell head over heels,
and the little love notes

It's the memories that I've worked to build,
it's the people that I've met.
It's all of those who picked me up,
Yes, all of those moments.

The people that I hold near,
even those that let me down.
They all mix together,
to form little pieces of my heart.

So home is where the heart is,
Yes, I do believe that's true.
For my home is made of all the things, that my little hearts'  been through.