I’m almost at the place!
No fortune-telling
gypsy need tell
me now
I feel a sense
of grace,
of place,
of peace
The day just
opened up,
the sun shone
down so fierce
My father looked
into my eyes, he cried
then my tears fell too
We smiled at one another
under the pines
We stood in October’s
warmest day
I’m coming home, Daddy
I said to him
I won’t hardly wait another day
-
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MAMA BIRD 
always, you can always wait another day
It looks like I’m going to have to 🙂
Beautiful Terah! I’ve just been writing about another “homecoming”. It is still amazing to me that the French do not have a word for HOME. They would say house which those of us with a word, know is so different. The closest thing to Home in French is foyer (each village or town has one) it also means hearth. Yet, they have a strong handle on the concept and live it everyday!
That’s really interesting 🙂
Since my earliest memories as a child, I always felt myself a captive and a foreigner. For the first time in my life, since arriving in France, I truly know what it is to be HOME!
I always think that is so interesting when people find their true “home” and they say it with such conviction, that is wonderful! I have always been fortunate to know that my hometown is my home! I have not lived there for over 13 years now!
Once you catch the pace of this poem it come s alive. Its got bounce and anticipation. Pity you have actually to wait another day because the end of anticipation and beginning of experience are embedded in the words
Thank you so much, this poem I will always cherish because it is spot-on memoir. But it’s nice to know it can be appreciated by someone else too 🙂