Home is where the heart belongs,
Where seasons pass, a verse of song,
Where green things blossom fair.
Yes, home is where the hearth is snug,
A chair atop the fire-rug,
An open book with pages ripe to share.
Home is when you wake from sleep
And step outside and breathe in deep
And watch the flowers grow,
Their petals dancing in the breeze,
Their scent so sweet it makes you sneeze,
While somewhere roosters crow.
A home is breakfast, eaten hot,
With one more just to hit the spot,
And make the corners full.
Home waits for you when you're away,
Presents your bed at end of day,
Though home may change, it's always there,
And every burden that you bear
More bearable will seem,
When in your hardest times, the Hill,
A welcome place, awaits you still
In mind and heart and dream.
Happy Hobbit Day 2020!