it’s funny the things that you start to miss –
a familiar bed, the books stacked up on the floor
a desk of one’s own
and a coffee pot in the morning.
An empty house and the wide open countryside
winter walks, dripping wet,
wellies caked in mud,
huddling by the AGA
and cooking, baking
to my heart’s content.
Last minute meals and easy cooking,
singing and dancing in the kitchen,
making something just because,
wandering around in dressing gowns
and drinking hot chocolate before bed.
the peace and quiet that comes with ‘home’,
but what is home, after all,
but those familiar things –
the things you start to miss
and crave to have around you again?