Coming Home

You are the
coming home
for me
when first I
stepped into
this place and
into arms
outstretched
and warm -
welcoming
me back to
a place
never been.

You are the
light at dark
when first
Venus ventures
slowly into
the night -
thrilling with
the raucous
choir of cicadas
screeching out
the notes
and conversation
of an afternoon
now passed.

You are the
smile that
meanders
across this
face at
evening's dawn
misting in
with dewy drops
and jasmine
scented air -
at pass of
day and the
coming home
is all I ask
when all else
is gone
and done
that you
always
will be there.

© Eleanor Clark
28 September, 2014