The simple nostos after the work day ends:
coat, scarf and car keys,
the sun already setting, the sky a little more bruised
than when you left it in the morning,
the one lane of slow traffic
and the blinkered hazards of roadworks,
more roadworks, before a straight road
into the country(ish),
a village close enough to every place
you always imagined you would call home,
and that person, stood in the door waiting,
waiting to call you,
home.
Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019
Image by John Howard from Pixabay
So beautiful and true. I finally know what it feels like to have that person in the doorway. Thank you for sharing!
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Thank you for your kind words ☺️
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You are most welcome. 🙂
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