Dominica Republic

Here, is home to all of use. The idea of home is a safe place to snuggle up in a blanket.

Looking into the eyes who’s only home was a cardboard box, without a blanket.

Here home is a pantry full of goodies and there is a scramble for a piece of bread and  no guarantee they would have a home.

Everyday we complain to one another about how bad our days are and to see this little boy trying to make a cent off of plastic bottles and manages to smile.  

We lay down at night able to close our eyes and dream.

Kids there are up all hours trying make their dreams come true.

At home there’s the luxury of throwing out garbage, and there they have the luxury of rum aching.

Night after night here we fill our tummies with foods and drinks.

Night after night tummies there grumble.

We take thing for granted when we have everything.

We barely have to fight for what we want with regrades.

Men and women including their sons and daughters are out in the heat all day trying to make a living.

Home is where the heart is and where there is love.

Sometimes love is all anyone really needs to call home some place home.