Comforts of Home
Snow fell softly,
Melting on my skin,
A cold, wet memory,
Of a day, long ago.
Christmas lights,
Shown like a beacon,
Warming my heart,
And leading my spirit.
The house glowed,
A clean, white aura,
Washing over my darkness,
Cleansing my heart.
As I opened the door,
Pine and conversation,
Light and fresh bread,
The comforts of home.
(c) 2005 Steve Johnston


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