As I pack the fabrics, nick knacks, and items
In my well worn dirt colored suitcase
I realized I would never be home.
Home is where the heart is
My heart roams like a hawk in the sky
It flows like the Mississippi river
It dances like the vast landscapes of Canada
It walks through the hole in the wall streets of Europe
And it feasts on the culture of South America
Soon it might be running through the tall grass of Africa
Diving off cliffs in Greece
It might be sight seeing the world
One movement at a time
Home is where the heart is some say
But my Heart is in the adventure
Not the destination