My home was in the arms of my mother.

Our bond woven by the strands

of not only nature, 

but nurture.

My home was in the eloquent way of her words.

The mysteries of Nancy Drew luring 

me to sleep, as her tender voice 

danced about my dreams.

My home was in each day bearing a new land of adventure.

From glorious lands of swings and slides

 to muted corners of the library.  

 We found bountiful laughter.

My home is in her selfless passion for others.

Dedicating her life to empowering youth.

Inspiration is not a word

powerful enough.

My home is in our ceaseless, circadian chatter.

Overflowing with cherished conversation. 

 Her words like the warmth of the

summer sun she loves so.

My home is in compassionate companionship of my mother.

Our bond woven only stronger by the trials of time.

Not only my source of life,

 but a life long friend.

My home will be in the soothing smiles we will share.

My years on Earth packed with chatter.

We will have surpassed semantics, 

unspoken communication.

My home will be in nurturing love I return to will to her.

I will devote to her the love she raised me into.

 Her motherly nature, nothing

short of uncomparable.

My home will be in the aged arms of my mother.

Our bond woven from unbreakable strands.

Grown fragile with nature, 

stronger with nurture.