Tiptoe

She dances down the halls
giggling as she goes
awakening in all of us
a longing
for what's
safe
familiar
home.

I left my home
when I was young
and spent
so many years
building new ones
out of ashes
of dreams
that turned to flame.

Wishing for a new home,
forever wandering
and waiting
for its appearance
in the headlights,
across the park -
or in the rearview mirror.

I wake
to find it
HERE
as it always was.
Home is where YOU are
home is not the walls
or the view
it's not the couch
or the photos on the wall.

If everything left in
a flood of flame
you
would be
the only
thing
I save.

OK, maybe the dog, too.
He's kinda cute.