Coming Home

 

You know how that door opens
Jerk the door handle
A little more to the right
That light that casts a shadow
That chair that creaks
And the child’s engraving in the wall

The blue blanket is softer
Than the brown one that your brother uses
You will always accidentally hit
The cat atop the chest of drawers
And injure your toe
With nooks and edges

And the pillow will always be askew
To accommodate the oddity of the neck
Everything is known yet distant
Like old friends who smile wistfully
And know of all your prior misgivings
Past lies, secrets and embarrassments

Each chip on the saucer and
Each scratch on the dining table
Kitchen smells and favourite foods
And music from the yore on the radio
Hold anecdotes to be passed on to
New friends and lovers

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