"A Place Called Home"

A Place Called Home

There's a sweet and magic wonder
To the place that I call home.
And I never seem to see it
Till I've gone away to roam.

There's a beauty to the morning
When the sun behind the hill
Casts its golden glow on farmland
And the air is soft and still.

Looking off across the meadow
Where the cattle roam and graze,
There's a peacefulness comes stealing,
Bringing joy-filled happy days.

On the wind I hear the music
Of the organ by the stair,
And a picture of the folks at home
A-singing, gathered there.

I can see the fireplace gleaming
With its cheery rosy glow,
And I get that weary longing
For that place so long ago.

On the road that goes a-winding
That I've traveled everywhere,
There's a turn to home and loves ones,
And I'm surely headed there.

In the twilight of the evening
When the purple shadows creep,
And the lamplight in the window
Lights the lane road at my feet...

I'll be standing in the doorway,
Where my heart has always known
That the grandest place on earth to be
Is a place that I call home.

Mildred L. Jarrell