listening to the day’s
the unseen thrush
trilling in the still-dark
before the January dawn,
I can almost sense you
turn in your sleep –
and this is my survival:
even in the act of leaving
I am always coming home
© Sarah Whiteley
In one more short month, I’ll be heading (again) into lengthy workdays and ungodly hours. Somehow the thought of it is even more difficult this time around knowing there’s a warm and wonderful soul waiting for me at home. And yet… there’s a warm and wonderful soul waiting for me at home! How lucky am I?
Indeed a fine reward for long hours at work. 🙂
Very, very lucky indeed!
and that is very wonderful closing lines to dedicate to.
I am sure the month will pass much better under such conditions.
Very lucky and so happy for you after a long day’s work! 🙂
Very lucky indeed, Sarah , and a beautiful poem.
very lucky! and i feel that way, too… coming home upon every leaving. beautiful!