Home?

Is home really standing on creaky floor boards At 7pm at night? Is that warm feeling I search for In the apathetic face of my mother after a long days work? Is that subtle lick of sweetness found In quiet buzz of T.V. static Or boiling water on a hot stove top? Cause I'll tell you It's not in the insanity of my mind The place I call my own Is not within the walls I built Instead Home is where I yern to be In a far away land of day dreams To which legends roam And enchanted forests prosper My "Home" Is mearly A measly, fantasy