there is much to be said about coming home
after a long time away from the big, old empty house
that seems to groan "I missed you"
as you cross the threshold, road-weary,
dragging suitcases up the stairs
the cats are dancing at your feet
you throw open windows to clear the air
birds begin to mysteriously gather on the rail
somehow noting the movement of your
figure crossing the room to fetch a cip of tea,
to just sit and take notice,
the delicious pleasure of the familiar.
ksaint
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