Going home

“Come hither!”
She beckons,
arms wide, lips curling
twisting, my soul with it.

Thunder echoes,
whispering hope in ears
rustling as autumn leaves 
brushing against 
my callous frame.

Worn by weather,
marred by wear,
my eyelids droop—
crinkles catch up,
I let go.

She bundles me—
warm scoop and ice cream,
melts the cold away,
carries me home.

Window scenes

White, light on sight,
as swans in a lake
flowing with a breeze,
fluffy puffs of spring
glide across my gaze.

As tiptoeing at midnight
lest we awaken ghosts,
floating, beyond reach—
like truffle, treacle tarts,
hover those clouds.