In my heart I'm always home for Christmas.
Its the people who share it and not the place
Where you spend it.
Its the lights on the tree, the gift of laughter,
The wonder of the snow, the light in the night.
Not the inside building.
It is in the hope found in our hearts.
It's the carol which we sing out strong.
Not the frame.
It is visiting the interior of the soul.
Where peace and goodwill dwell.
Not the places.
It is in discovering, once again, anew.
The babe lies within us all, waiting
For the right time to be born.
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