Where you live
I'll be the quiet street
where you exit and retreat
the neighbor
who by name you greet
On a cold damp winter's day
to be in the blast of furnace heat,
Your thirty year roof in the rain
to keep you dry from above,
the dirt that gets on your hands and knees
from an afternoon's work in the garden that you love.
The air that gets down deep in your lungs
after a long walk on a country lane,
A part of what brings you joy
and never causes pain,
The warm sand beneath your soles
and between your toes
And always in my heart
wherever it is you go.