Poem: Home

Home

In the year just past
you have made strange places home,
dining alone, night after night
in new cities and distant cafes,

so often moving,
so often among strangers
that you have begun to find peace,
even joy in the din

of conversations to either side,
never hearing the words,
only the emotions
of those people you do not know,

coming at last to understand
that home is not a place,
but a place in the heart
that you may leave for a time,
but never leaves you, a place

always available, if only
you open your soul
to the possibility and promise that home,
like God, is always with you.

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The picture was taken either in Williamsburg or Yorktown, Va. I cannot remember which. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom