Home is an Island

At the end of a 30 mile asphalt river
There lies an island frozen in time
Where every one still says 'hello neighbor'
And there is seldom any crime

You can still leave your doors unlocked
And your windows open at night
Because after the hours of 8 or 9 pm
There is nary a person in sight

The mail lady will always your name
And the clerk at the corner store just the same
Because every one knows every one here
If you're a local, you're part of the family, Dear.

Every Sunday the church pews are full
Every Saturday Night the local bar
And if you're looking around for a pick up truck
You won't have to look all that far

Growing up you take this place for granted
This town in the middle of nowhere
But now when life gets stressful in the city
I fill up my gas tank to run there

The porch light will always be on
And a hot meal upon the stove
With fresh fruits and vegetables picked by hand
From the garden and the grove.

Home may not be a building
Or a set of four wooden walls
But home is definitely a place
And I will always hear its calls

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