My favorite place is not between four walls,
Or enclosed by doors,
Or opened with knobs.
My favorite place is with sand between my toes,
And salty summer air, forcing me to let my natural hair glow.
Lets not forget the obnoxious ghost crabs, who hate to be followed.
Or currituck lighthouse, gleaming over those who sorrow.
The waves of the sea bring comfort to me.
The beach is where I’m meant to be.
Even the airplane rides are fine by me.
Imagine being on top of the world, with the most amazing views to see.
Other planes flee through the sky, while I look out the window and wonder where they are headed.
Are they traveling to where they feel most at home too?
Or are they still venturing for that haven?
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