Homebound

Home

I am awaiting your homecoming tonight.
I am counting down the moments with every
spin of the spoon in my mug of French vanilla tea.
It feels a little pathetic –
watching the ions separate – honey, tea leaves, cashew milk.
I feel a little pathetic.
Wrapped up in a cream colored scarf and a sweater
that hangs off my shoulder in a way that makes me
look a tad more sloppy than cute.
But it’s comfortable.
And I am only sitting and waiting.
You’ve been a few thousand miles away for far too long.
It is so quiet in this apartment that I can
hear the pulse of poppies beating in my hanging garden.
I watched from my window – the black sea hang below
an even blacker sky –
Supple bursts of starlight coating the air with
sweet flavors of winterberry and rooibos.
Sea foam hoping to catch those falling gems,
mini treasures to carry out to great depths,
probably wished for by lonesome sailors searching
for a French kiss or that old topographic map,
whichever feels more like home.
You feel like home to me.
God, you feel like home.

Comments

  1. Love this ❤️

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