Coming Home

I will lug my suitcases from the trunk of the car to the guest room inside.

My bedroom upstairs will be calling my name as I climb the stairs.

Pink carpet will embrace my feet when I reach the end of the hallway.

Printed pink hearts and plaid wallpaper will close in around me.

I will flop on my bed and hear the creaks I have memorized over the years from sleeping and tossing and turning.

My arms will open and fall to the side.

My eyes will be blinded by the clang and clatter of cluttered walls and desks, bureaus and vanities, closets and shelves.

This entry was posted on Monday, July 26th, 2010 at 6:00 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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