When Home Seems Far Away
Sometimes we don’t know where our home is. We don’t know where our heart is. And like birds, we want to fly away lalala
Sometimes we don’t know where our home is. We don’t know where our heart is. And like birds, we want to fly away lalala
That certainly is the truth.
It happens to me once a year, Elaine, at Thanksgiving time (end of November), when it’s hard for me to be away from my American family. (sigh)
i can only imagine that heart ache
Lovely shot. Sometimes there are thoughts and feelings that make us think…maybe too much.
yes, too much, Phil… especially today for me.
Your melancholy is the sweetest thing that hits me, baby. It’s poetic. It’s echoing. It’s in the heart. The heart is where the home is. Including all the ones that are loved & already gone. Including all these that will step in & will be loved. But nobody will ever be loved like a love you & what you do to me.
All the best & safe travels, Fritsch.
love, love, more love, and only love, sweetie