Wednesday, March 08, 2006


Come home, come home
It's time, my dear
The dog and cat are
All in tears
The house feels big
An empty place
The bed is cold
With too much space
So quiet is
The stairway down
Into the place
We eat and lounge
Every door
Is locked and sealed
There's not a window
Giving yield
Our home will feel
Much safer when
Its man is back
In it again
My heart will be
At peace once more
As soon as you
Walk through our door.


Jim said...

Aw shucks. I'm honored to be the subject of one of your incredible works of poetry.

eets said...

I definitely know what you mean about the empty house syndrome. Freaks me out when Sarah's gone. Just a weird feeling. Come home Jim!