Home

On the road back, the hours and miles passing

Finally the radio station came into range,

A free form station, one of the few left;

All the songs in the set were about HOME…

Capitalized, not a place

And each one reminded me

Along the long stretch of road I was on

That I was heading home

smaller case

A place to sleep, to wake from, to keep things,

But it did not hold my heart, nor my mind.

It is empty, now, and cold

Colder than the winds that rush by outside

Colder than the winds that bounce around inside

home, not HOME…

 

So I entered, turning on lights to the quiet darkness

Locked the door and shuffled in

No one to look to see who entered

No one to ask  how the time away was,

or a grunt “hello.”

No one to ignore or be ignored by

For the home ignored it all, and just was.

 

Unpacked, restlessly moving around,

Checking the mail, the messages,

I entered her room, still full of things, saying

“Wish you were still here.

Yes, I had a nice time.

Yes, she is a nice person.

Yes, I’m glad she’s in my life.

Yes, her family is nice, and the meal was great, and we had a fun time.

I may still have a chance at that job.

Yes, good news.”

 

I’m sorry you couldn’t be here to hear any of this.