Home Is a Time

I didn’t want to go home because I thought home meant somewhere else.

Hot sun cooled by blue pools. 

The little children running on the patio 

And the fear on your face watching them slip.

The distorted lines of your face reflected in that very same blue pool. 

Oh but how they danced when you smiled. 

And you really did smile a lot.

But now you cry I think because the children stopped running on your patio. 

Vicki doesn’t pick flowers in the front yard anymore and Christopher doesn’t sing in the car. I don’t sit in the secret staircase and watch you plant the tulips. You don’t plant the tulips.

No one calls for lost pets down the street, and you haven’t seen your neighbor since those very days. 

 Those kids who drew the sun with chalk on the little white pebbles, I think they want their lives back... but I don’t know how.

home isn’t a place. It was a time.