THIS SANCTUARY

If a home be a sanctuary
may it taste of eternal spring,
framed in bowers of lilac,
petals strewn about the lazy drive -
glimpses unto the world inside.

Wet, lulling daisy heads swoon
and are redeemed
from the fluttering shadows
of a butterfly’s wings.
Soft velvet buttons burst forth
spread open and are gone
with the migrant kiss
of a fleeting sun.

If a home be a sanctuary
may it find breath in bubbling honey,
glazed upon the pork on the spit.

...or perchance, from warm ether
off cakes perched upon open sills.
Ah, how the remnant tang of nectar
plucked from rightful bowers,
anoints these ripened hands
in the promise of virgin fruit.

If a sanctuary,
then a home resounds,
with the faded laughter of simpler times;
recanted tinkling of piano forte -
the tender patter of tiny feet evaporated,
quick, light taps made more profound -
danced upon craggy weather-beaten steps.

Echoed discussions,
moot parlor game chatter,
the pleasures of company,
magical hush
with the perfect pitch clang of quieting crystal:

To friends and family -
To life and love -
For those lost to us now,
but ne’r forgotten -
a toast!

Then a home remains constant,
alive and near
though aged mountains
and encroaching cities divide.

It can never be further
than our dreams remembered
Suddenly stirred to reminiscences dear
by some vibrant scent -
the evocative twitter, unearthed
ageless and silent
as spirits pass -
one world to the next;
a soul emerging
between mortar and brick,
peeking beneath thatch and thistle.

In that instant - a halo
where time serves no reference.
Memories breed on one another
for those fortunate enough to fall
into welcomed trespass
beyond the house,
...this sanctuary.