Home

While you were gone, I tried filling my time;

I wrote out the ways that I missed you (in rhyme).

I sought out my friends for some coffee and talk.

I even tried taking a cat for a walk.

And, feeling our house was the best place to be,

to stay when you’re ever so far ’way from me,

I rushed on back to this place we have made,

and did feel relief by your likeness conveyed.

Now that you’re here, though, the difference is stark,

so much so that I feel the need to remark:

I was still homesick, although I was home,

as much as if I had continued to roam.

It’s just a house, even with all your things.

The feel of a home is what your presence brings.

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Home, Sweet Home

homesweethome1

There’s nothing like returning home when I’ve been far away …

no, nothing quite as comforting as that.

I breathe in those familiar scents. In dark, I know my way.

I relish being where I hang my hat.

homesweethome2

My mattress isn’t perfect but I welcome every lump.

I know what to expect when I sleep there.

I never need good posture; I can slouch and droop and slump,

and check my email in my underwear.

homesweethome3

I need not amble through the lobby if I want to eat,

I make my own food and it tastes just fine.

I go about my business with no shoes upon my feet,

ecstatic to be in this place that’s mine.

homesweethome4

When I must leave here on my way to do this thing or that,

if I could pack and take my house, I would,

complete with driveway, mailbox, and of course, my welcome mat.

I’d even bring my quiet neighborhood.

homesweethome5

But it might be a good thing I can’t bring that stuff along,

that I must go without things I adore …

for being far away from them, and not where I belong,

just means I, then, appreciate things more.

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