There will come a time,

when the maples blush,

and the air sharpens the wit,

I will go back-yes back

to the arms of the familiar,

to the smiles of the checkers,

 the repartee of a friend.

when the self imposed exile

finally comes to an end.

.

I'll wallow in the comfort zone,

and take it all in-the skyline,

the buildings, the aura that seduced

with its bon mot and by line,

where unseen arms  give me shelter

and help me carry the load, where

I can just sit outside the bank

and watch the day unfold.

.

There will come a time

when the maples blush ,

when my heart purrs again

 as I see St. Marys dome-

I'll quietly hum an old song;

"There's no place like home."

07/02/2007

Posted on 07/03/2007
Copyright © 2026 Jane E Pearce