It stands as a truism that you can never go home.  Yet home does not vanish because we cannot go there any longer in the flesh.  Whether it changed or we did something remains, even if just an echo.

The shadows of home are never so far
As the thought in a memory.
Out of reach to never be seen
Or touched out of reverie.

Lonely they walk past gardens unknown
And never quite leave us be.
The shadows play tricks and soften the edge
Of old reality.

Yet shadows of home are never so near
As a welcome, silent dream
They color each day in every way
With a faint and echoed gleam.

The shadows of home are held to the heart
And live in a better place by far.
And some day as we make our own way
We will find ourselves where they are.

Shadows of Home copyright © Heather Strickler 2024 all rights reserved