Homecoming…

For The Sunday Muse Prompt #179:

**
The scent of life and of living
hangs heavy on this place,
Here, where the weight
of memory and first things
lose themselves in the labyrinth
of the mind.

First step, first walk, first smile.
First  words – garbled beyond
recognition but finding
the connection between
the proffered body
and sustenance.

First leaving, first returning
then leaving – the first steps
of a  lonesome journey
to a far country, of seeking
the wily welcome of the open world
calling – siren-like – from beyond
the walls that time has built.

The days have their dangers
and the nights their flights of fancy
but in moments of respite and clarity
I find myself here. Home.
Always returning.

Abandonment

For The Sunday Muse Prompt #84. Image Source.
***
Behind the grime,
and the ravages
of time the remains
of living now lie,
each layer of dirt
a sigh, a dirge
for the mystery
of abandonment,
for how easy
it is for things
once woven into
the fabric of the
present to slip
beneath the shroud
of the memories
we lose. Maybe this
is what leaving is,
things returning
to the way they
always were.

#NaPoWriMo18: Day 2, Home

Snowed in, somewhat. For the Day 2 prompt.

I ache
in the winter when it rains.
When the wind, like the fingers
of a malevolent one probe beneath.

Deep down
in a place sometimes lost
where memories once lived,
lies the linger of disquiet.For forgetting.

Some days
the smell of fresh wood wafts in,
borne as though on wings of the wind.
Then, these bones – aching in the cold – rejoice.