My home

It’s raining tonight. I’m walking alone The sound of my steps and breathing The windows around me, their pastel glow Attracting my soul and teasing Your stormy southwest, I’m feeling the blow Embracing me, lost and wet… I’m thinking of people, the people I know And those, whom I never met Their house is built, their children are born Their trees grow high in the yard And flowers bloom in spite of the thorns Though thorns make a perfect guard A beautiful garden, maintained so well The garden of someone’s dream The lilac aroma, the drops of bluebells And maples, and apple-trees But when I imagine my own home The sacred place of my heart I see not the beauty behind the haw A view from the postal card I draw the picture of me in the dark Awaiting for you on the step The evening is clear with starry sparks And one is asleep in my lap My thoughts are serene, for soon you will come Although you are late sometimes The wild rose is whispering in the calm Replied by the candles of pines . October 2013