Welcome home

Longing to be there

where the grass is greener

the homes edified on the rocks

where the fire burns inside a plentiful kitchen

with a cat watching the horizon on the window

A home without locks

a heart without mock

I long to hear the children filling the house

To harvest the apples

from the tree which branches tap at the bedroom window

to run, to fill the lungs with more air I could ever breath

I long to soak into the blue

arms open wide

mind flying where not even birds can fly

I long to have my feet stained green from the fresh grasses

To wear my children hanging everywhere

to laugh until almost explode

I want to cure my own cheese

to raise my own

to gaze at the sublime light of the sun

blinding in glory my dreams

to feel the soft breeze as hypnotized by the moon

as the stars tell me their secrets written in music

I long to hear the sound of the stars

to see them reflected on the happy faces surrounding me

faces of the children I will never meet

while the fire burns and we all sing by the fireplace

The oldest plays the guitar, smiling with pearly grin

the house smells of fresh bread

and the snow outlines the ground of ethereal glare

Somewhere...

Where you can ride the pink bike down the coast

collecting the wild flowers to fill the baskets

and run after the little ones who want to chase butterflies

I long to have a picnic on the beach

and have my self distilled wine

a very deserved glass of wine served in rustic cup

observing them jumping the calm waves

I long to go back the hill so tired

with the whiny children falling asleep as they go

to finally walk home

a never locked home

with lavender at the front door

and a wooden plaque I carved:

Welcome