If You Had to Go to Prison, They Would Have to Take You In

What is it if you’ve lived
Places, and had houses,
Briefly, or in childhood,

Never one not borrowed
On a bank or rented,
But real residences,

Long enough to call homes,
In towns and villages,
Some of which you liked well,

And you have never been
Truly a wanderer,
Truly independent,

But of all those places
You’ve called home, none of them
Gave you that sense of home

You’ve read about, heard of,
That one spot one belongs?
Aren’t you just missing home?