A Comforting Thing
I’d left old Kentucky for a while to roam,
but now the roads call me, and I’m coming home.
Just me and my pickup -we’re now headed to
a chilled winter woodland, the cottage, and you.
Those back roads keep calling. Old houses with gates
I’m driving on past to where my dear awaits.
I see in the distance a comforting thing.
Smoke drifts from your chimney as wind starts to sing.
A down- home cooked supper awaits me tonight
then all-night sweet lovin’ near the warm firelight.
10/12/13
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