I don't know the last time
I saw your house.

I guess I always thought
I could go back one more time.
It never occurred to me
That one day it would cease to be
My home.
Your home?
Home.

Your kitchen replays
In my head -
Your happy place,
Where you were busy,
Doting and loving,
Decorating the home
In curry smells and
Forgetting to sit,
Forgetting to eat.

Busy has always been
Your coping strength
And I know you busy yourself
In your new kitchen,
Living with family,
But not being needed
The same way he needed you.

I wonder if you will find
peace in solitude
Or comfort in family
Or if you will find yourself so busy
That you don't even have to think
About losing your home.