Here Is My HomebySander Roscoe Wolff©
The world, these days, seems like such a small place.
Their fingers touch as they walk,
and he almost feels her sweet breath in his ear
as they talk by phone.
Amidst the throng of strange faces, moving in strange places,
he doesn't feel alone. He has known life's miseries and
dressed them down. They hold no sway over him.
He closes his eyes and sees her dressed for bed,
her night-gown soft, a pillow for her head,
her eyes shining in the starlight.
He feels the curve of her hip beneath his hand,
her warmth filling him.
No matter where he roams, in his heart and mind he knows:
Here is my home.