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
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