Coming Home

I have to thank my friend Thijs for finding this camp site in France that....

well...

Inspired this...

Coming home is a  wonderful feeling...
Coming home causes life to have meaning...
But, sometimes, the place you called home...
Is challenged by what you find when you roam...

To know your home by the familiar...
Is to live life by being similar...
For to walk into a place, you have not seen before...
And be totally at home, you truly need nothing more...

To see an old ladder, lovingly laid on a tree
Nearby are old pots and cans... not out of place, just where they should be...
Rustic and ruin, but perfectly sound...
Friends become family, when your true home is found...

I sit and listen to the music in their voice
Listen to family, not simply friends, who are there by choice...
They travel many miles to be here each year...
This family of friends, no matter how far away, are always near...

Miles from the madness, in its own time and space...
Cats roam freely in this wonderful place...
They tumble and play, for life they have no worry...
Much to be done.. but there is never a hurry...

For me, from the start, this place touched my heart...
I have lived many decades and thought I knew my part...
But the people and this place, are now simply "home"...
I now have a true place to come back to whenever I roam...

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We travel to find the real but when we come in the many, the real becomes lost...
To go to a place with empty beaches and then return to row upon row of hotels somewhat negates the point of going there...

So a place very relevant to now, but somehow lost in the past is a beautiful find.
To find a place that still runs on trust, not profit, makes you question modern life .
So no name will you find here, but, hopefully, many will  find it all the same.

I wish my time was not running out faster than I would like
So to one and all... Goodnight, I'm off to ride my bike...