Thoughts of Home

Gathering thoughts when alone is not an imperative act, it's an opportune time to define the vague and the exact I ponder the aura of my home that I consider to be a blessing, walls are silent taking care not complaining of merest dressing Sometimes, seems strange, I admit, when the mirror knows only me, for after all, olden walls recall hearing the joyous sound of “we” But, it's home, felt being said, warmth may be an unseen hearth, as vague and exact are intact when 'alone' becomes an art