Missed-Buduburam Refugee Camp, Ghana

I missed my home; my bed cozy and warm,
The floors creaky and dusty with the floorboards years worn,
And the walls that let through a cool summer's breeze,
And a chilly winter's gust, through the gaps you could see.


I missed my family; their embrace, their love,
The time spent with friends, the squeeze of their hugs,
And the way that they know when my smile is gone,
That I need help and a shoulder to lean on.


But I wish I missed not my home or my bed,
And I wish I missed not my family or friends.


For I have a home here, a home with a bed,
A place to lay down and a roof o'er my head,
A home that is frequented by family and friends,
Who know something is wrong if my smile e'er ends.


And with two beds and two homes,
And two families and friends,
I can miss the ones missing,
And know when I'm gone,
Their support is not missing,
It is ever as strong.


I will miss what I miss,
And cannot guide it,
Or miss not what I miss,
Or even to hide it.


I will always miss that which I'm in need of,
The people, the places, the things that I love.