I know a place that can fulfill an audacious man’s quixotic adventures,
Quench any inquisitive scholar’s thirst with infinite freeways of knowledge.
A place where the king and queen rule but treat their subjects like royalty
While outlawing thrones and avarice.
A refuge from the outside world;
A safe haven from the pain.
All are welcome, but few stay.
Even fewer understand its true meaning.
Made up of juries and jurors who make fair verdicts;
People settle issues like a court, only people don’t judge

I know a place where peacocks flaunt their bravado,
Where a massive tree looms and creates a protective shield.
A Honda in the driveway,
A basketball court in the back,
Balls flying everywhere.
A snug couch in the dining room
And bedrooms scattered with week-old laundry.
A place with shoddy staircase banisters
And a view too beautiful for words.
A place to open the mind and a delectable treat.
Weekends filled with games--games that entice a world of curiosity but shared by a select few.
Hot chocolate by the fire and chocolate chip cookies that melt in the mouth.
A broken treadmill upstairs makes for great fictitious exercise.
Getting lost in Tarantino’s disparate storylines;
Three blinks away from dozing off,
But it doesn’t matter--
Doesn’t matter because all I need is what surrounds me,
Those who’ve been with me every day.
There are millions of places in the world of course,
Connected by vast networks and intricate routes.
But there is only one path that matters:
The one that leads me to the gates I know so well.
For even when I turn my back to this house,
And walk away from the seamlessly never-ending driveway,
I can walk on optimistically, knowing that it has allowed me to pave paths of my own.