Honey, I'M Home

Finally she's here at their first address Burying her seeds in her summer dress His shoulders are broad and his hands are rough He keeps things honest no matter how tough She picks wild violets for their salads in cheer Then places one neatly atop her ear He loves this earth but he must strip the land With sweat on his brow and with his ax in hand The house could simply explode with light With mountain valleys from left to right. He brushes off his rugged attire Then grabs a few logs for their outdoor fire She slices the carrots to a fine julienne Then dusts the chicken with a dash of cayenne He begins his journey to their sanctuary at last He smells like dirt, sweat and grass The wind swings Through the window And clings Her dress to her skin With voluptuous sin Through the door He steps on in The floor creaks And over the wind He softly speaks At last Honey, I'm home... By Dustin Riddle