When the day ends, locked at home.
The night is dark and yet forgetful !
Warm room with bodies sound asleep,
Cozy air breathes through the windows.
As the leaves fall somewhere in the future,
And a rainy day is on the offering.
Carelessly stoking arms of the clock,
It’s a shelter still-this warm room.
Filled with things that will be --
New and cheerful also old and dying.
As the leaves fall somewhere in the future
For enough springs have come to pass.
Now that I sit here looking at “Old photographs,
visiting home yet again.