Sunday, March 3, 2013

It is my home ........yet not home.

It is my home
........yet not home.
The walls are bright and sunny,
painted in the amber shades of honey,
warm, glistening with love,
with oval painting of pair of white dove.

The windows open to south,
breezy, feels right on cloud,
curtains are floral and dainty,
with butterflies and hummingbirds in plenty.

On the corner lay the rocking chair,
a fuchsia cushion and cuddly bear,
as I rock in the chair and look outside,
how do I miss the waves on a high tide?

A glass of wine to last fifteen minutes,
and a crystal bowl of honey roasted peanuts,
with light piano in the background,
and a white kitty lurks around.

As the sun sets over the ocean,
I feel a change in the emotion,
from love, cloud, tide and wine,
I feel a turmoil in the mind.

The chair rocks alone,
the chills on the air pierce the bone,
with no human voice and face,
hand to hold and body to embrace,
the night sets in with loneliness,
moon too floats by in distress.

Alas, it is my home,
....yet not home!

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.