My Home
A Story-Poem
The house this morning smells
of beans cooking and coffee
brewing. A light dusting of snow
covers the trees and grass. We are
children of the light waiting for
the return of God in his golden
chariot. I sip my first cup of coffee
and watch as she cooks breakfast.
We have been together for over
thirty years and our lives are drawing
to a close. If we have another thirty
years together I will be surprised.
Death creeps up the back stairs
when you least expect it and sinks its
claws into your body. I watch my soul
rise out of its decaying temple and
dance across the room, then slip
through an open window into the cold
morning air. It does a few cartwheels
in the branches of our maple tree, then
shoots through the air to the nearest
cloud. My home this morning smells
of light conversation mixed with love.
Come dance with us.
Copyright © 2020 by Harley King
If you like this poem, you may also like The Roar.
