Inhabited Land
She was an adventuress.
I'd visit her, though far.
Before we grew apart I'd send letters.
Head leaned back. That old familiar pillow.
That familiar smell of home. The letter I wrote always carried that familiar smell, although far away.
She promised she'd return. Home to a place of comfort.
I knew she found home a long time ago.
Single reason I too became a traveler.
Forgetting where I placed the keys to the house.
Finding a separate road that rounded and round, walking fast I hurried.
Finding the opposite direction more peaceful.
The sky more bluer.
That old pillow no longer familiar.
Until I inherited land and built a house.
Away from the window of her eye
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