2 Can I Have This Dance?: Live In A Smile

Song Title:  I Feel Home
Artist:  O.A.R. (of a revolution)
Album:  Any Time Now
Genre:  Rock

Notes:  For my first "Can I Have This Dance?" posts, I admit I was a bit hard pressed to find a song to provide inspiration; I think I was just looking to hard.  A couple of songs popped with lines that spoke to me in one way or another, but I felt like the first post had to be more than just based around a line in a song. 

I chose CIHTD? as a theme because of the way music speaks to me--the way it reaches into me, unraveling me and soothing my raging emotions.  I don't really have a favorite artist or band.  I don't really have a favorite song.  Although song-wise, I do songs of the moment--those that stay with me for months at a time and slowly fade until other comes along to take its place.  I don't really have a specific genre of music, though I must admit country seems to out weigh other genres on my iPod.  But that is not to say I don't have quite a span of genres:  alternative, punk, blues, christian, folk, jazz (especially big band), latin, pop, rock, etc.

All of that is beside the point and completely off topic.  Last night as I lay in bed trying to (not) sleep, I started thinking again about my song choice.  And I realized it made the most sense to start a group (reminder I have no favorite) that--no matter how I am feeling or how far gone I may be--has a way of seeping into my veins and coursing through me.  A song that makes me feel home.  That was it, that thought right there, "makes me feel home;"  I knew exactly what song to find my inspiration in.

So without further ado ('cause there was way too much already)....

Live In A Smile

he has no home--like the woman
stretched out on the park bench
layered in too many clothes
with a newspaper blanket to keep warm

so he wraps himself in the warm smiles
of childhood friends who unwittingly
provided sanctuary from the roof
crashing in bruising his skin; from the
walls burning around leaving welts;
from the house not a home.

she has no home--like the muttering man
tucked away in his cardboard box
upgraded from the too small to stretch out in
water logged roof barely keeping him dry.

so she shelters herself in the warm embraces
of childhood friend who but briefly
provided stability with each new roof
hovering over her ready to move on; with each
set of walls crumbling around her;
from the houses not a home.

They have no place to call home--
no dwelling to return to,
arms open ready to catch them
should they fall.

Beaten and Bruised;
Tossed Aside and Misplaced.
They have
                 no physical
                                    home;
(not yet.)
But they have the materials--
beams shaped from the warm smiles
insulation fashioned from the warm embraces
of childhood friends, who armed them
with the knowledge of what home
can be.  And they'll build it,
so one day their children
will have a place to come back to--
a place
             to feel home.