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h o m e
October 4, 2013
A child walks a crisp, woven path
of endearment and orange
leaves slip to the ground,
an aching heart pulsing for
the smell of pine,
of pumpkin spice,
of alluring fantasies that await her.
Yet she cannot see the end
of the tunnel, she knows one is there-
biding in warm sunsets
the chill in the air
that nips skin and pulls hoods overhead,
with a welcoming smile
the girl believes to be home.
And everything becomes warm again.
© Angela B., Holland Patent, NY
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