Home isn't home

Mornings here are filled with

sirens, garbage trucks

impatient car horns

noise.

The haze in the air

almost tangible

as if I could reach out and hold it.

I know these streets

and though much has changed

enough remains familiar

yet

I am an alien here now

and I miss the silence

the clarity

the space, the scent,

the freedom

of home.

I ache for the arms that will welcome me

back to my life

for sweet dog kisses

and time in the presence

of the lover of my soul.

Where home IS home.