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Calling Home

by Karen Michelle

There's nothing quite like
sinking into one's own bed,
writing by candlelight;
smelling the familiar fragrance of home
and watching the light
skip and jump with effortless abandon
between the shadows it nightly visits.

I have something to return to -
a home, a heart, a warmth -
but I miss the newly discovered:
the independence and strength
in solitude...the smile of a stranger.

But I will see that smile again,
I will hear foreign laughter turn familiar
because the world is opening up
and I'm only just beginning...

12/09/2003

Posted on 12/08/2003
Copyright © 2024 Karen Michelle

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Philippa Jane on 12/09/03 at 04:50 AM

Foreign laughter turned familiar.. we can but hope (for us). xo.

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