postcards from spain

I'm so far from home and my airbed is sinking to the floor
I'm not fretting, worrying where life is taking me no more
Because I may wake up with a crick in my neck
I may have no socks on my feets and no pillow f'my head for some time
I'll wake up where my body lies and without a move of my lips, my Spirit smiles

If the home is where the heart is and the heart is where you are, then I'm home

I've taken some time and I'm writing out a postcard to you
As for the name and address, I'm not quite sure what to do
I know you're still dwelling in the praises of men
You've got no bed for sleeping and no roof over your head for some time
I'm waking up to the rhythm of your heart
You're playing the drums before the day even starts
So I just stop and wonder

If the home is where the heart is and the heart is where you are, then I'm home

check out my commentary: http://authorsinterpretaion.blogspot.com/2010/07/postcards-from-spain-interpretation.html