The Homecoming

I saw the bitter sun,

Upon the vehicle’s sliding window

He was going deep down,

In a nimbus of angry-red,

Perhaps the sun will rise tomorrow

Upon my lips – dry despite

The wet, mellowing ray kisses.

 

There are people everywhere.

The sliding window catches their fleeting face,

One glimpse, before they fade and vanish

And I think of the sun in this crowd,

As words float in like snowflakes.

 

The yellow street lights will be awake

When I would reach your door-step

And some shadows will die on the staircase.

Someone hums a tune, 

I wait for eyes on the keyhole

And listen to the silence inside.

 

I search for the keys…

 

What are you looking for?