Home

Her tea kettle whistles,
calling me to come home
to her bright fires.
The scent of cinnamon,
her perfume.

Feel the crisp linens,
cold in winter till
her body warms them.
The smell of her hair,
my desire.

Winter winds blow, calling
Come, it is cozy.
Come, it is soothing.
Come, it is home.

Her shadow by hearth-light
flickers in the panes,
swaying to a silent melody.
The grace of her body,
my music.

Simple pleasures made
all the more wondrous
by the curve of her cheek.
The sound of her voice,
my comfort.

Summer rains whisper
Come, it is cozy.
Come, it is soothing.
Come, it is home.

Entering the doorway
of love known by few,
her trust enfolds me.
The depth of her eyes,
my passion.

If the wind brings you whispers
of a love such as this,
seize upon the moment.
Answer the wind.
Answer the rain calling,
Come, it is cozy.
Come, it is soothing.
Come, it is home.


Spring 2000