I was looking in an old notebook, the small kind I keep at my desk and fill full of little bits of information, perhaps a recipe, phone messages, odds and ends. In the midst of the grocery lists and things to-do, I found this poem I wrote based upon a dream I had:
We have traveled
this journey
outside the fence
around the house.
The gate is swung open
inviting the weary
traveller in.
Pass through,
walk up the steps
and knock on
the door.
Welcome.
At last you've come home.