Homecoming

 

 

Low stone fence and behind it

A small patch of yellowing grass,

Some tired plants in ceramic pots

Tree we planted when the girls were young,

Is now looming over the yard.

Crushed granite walkway still

Leads to a wide entrance of

Red brick, and a door that

 No longer wears our names.

I put my ear to the door and listen,

Echoes of laughter dispersing, spraying,

 Ringing, bright and jingly.

Small feet tapping up and down the stairs,

A delightful jumble of kids and toys,

Barking dogs and sleepy cats,

Perfect harmony of banging doors and

 Slamming windows, is it still there?

I knock and hold my breath.

The hand marks of strangers

Everywhere I look,

Do I know this place that seems

The same, yet so altered

My eyes swim around,

Looking for a familiar spot,

An anchor, to secure myself to,

In these alien walls that

Once I called home.