Coming Home

Another lover might build you a castle,

a temple of stone with long mirrored hallways

and a cadre of candles adorning the walls

to light you way through dark nights.

Maybe there would be a deep green moat

to protect you from the wicked world,

and a tall tower for watching the seasons change.

Another lover might build you a mansion

filled with expensive vases and oversized chairs.

The high ceilinged rooms would echo your voice,

and your lover would smile to hear you sing.

Tall doorways would frame you so strikingly,

and from each window long gardens would beckon you

to stroll amid manicured lawns.

But lover, I would build you  a house in my heart

with a single story and an untamed yard.  I'd make

a stone skirt using river rocks, each one worn smooth by time.

The floors would be cherry, enduring,

alive with the memory of sunshine and bloom.

Every window would open to let in the wind,

every door would swing wide to deliver you in.

And in the center room, a place for fire.

My lover, I'd build you a home in my heart

on a fast moving river with fortified banks.

And there I would raise high the roof beams of gladness,

and there, I would lower the ceiling of sighs.

And there, in the warmth of my heart's kitchen,

I would feed you and knead you and bake bread for you.

In the halls of my heart, I would welcome you home.

Peregrine Neel