Monday, October 22, 2012

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
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: