Over fields and meadows she walked.
Across streams and brooks.
Stepping delicately on the icy stones.
Through heath, heather and marshland she made her way home.

Each night she made a fire to warm her cold toes and fingers,
to take the ache from her weary bones.

When sleeping she draped herself with the the night sky and the stars.

By day the walk home was arduous,
many perilous encounters with wild boar and bears
made her have to change course,
often walking more miles to avoid the danger.

One more ridge and she could take rest in her own bed
for the first time in an age.

Hoping she would be welcome at home once more.
The blankets on her bed, although threadbare,
would feel as the finest silk against her skin.

Her once beautiful summer dress was now tattered and torn,
exposing more skin than it held.
Leaving with but the dress she wore and no shoes upon her feet,
she wanted so much for a bath by the fireside
and the smell of soap on her skin.

Soon she hoped.

One more ridge and she could see the cottage
that she once called home.
A place she could be her true self.

Tears fell as she could see her home,
so close but at least a days walk from her vantage point.

She could imagine the threshold,
cool and smooth at her feet as she would step inside.
The smell of stew hanging above the fire place,
making her mouth water at the thought.

Having not eaten a meal for so long
her stomach gripped tight and ached
for just the taste of bread.

And on she walks with one dream,
to be home.

At the end of the day she makes her way to the gate.
Leaving in such haste there is still a thin strip of fabric
on the gate post,
Holding her hand to the matching hole at the hip of her dress,
she remembers the night she left.

Fear grips her heart,
the last few steps are the hardest.
Anxiety wells within her chest and her mind is racing
with her thoughts and worries.

The last step and she takes hold of the door ****,
she listens for sound.
Looking around, seeing,
sensing as to whether she will be favorably taken in.

Turning the ****,
the door is the last barrier she must overcome
and it is almost too much.

The love of home never left her,
it beckoned to her everyday
and whispered softly to her every night.

Feeling as a moth to a flame,
longing for her small place in the world.

Hoping she is still wanted.

In the dim evening light,
she silently enters the room.