I Smell Bread
Far away from home and feeling all alone, I crave all the comforts that'll make this house a home.
The clock on the wall, ticks down the hall, it's hands waving to me, as it calls.
The sun is rising, casting its warm light,
the kitchen is waking up, cheerful and bright.
The coffee pot is waiting, wanting to be filled, the cups all lined up, on the window's sill.
The bed is warm and comfy, the pillows soft-yet lumpy, the sheets freshly washed, I smell something.
The oven warms my home,
I'm sure that I'll be fed,
a wiff of baked cookies,
before I go to bed.
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