The return—
Returning to a home
Folding time and space
To bring back the memory of the day of departure
Arms have extended and grasped all the while
Till today, they take hold of what they reached for
Its familiar contours
Its memory foam
It gives way easily
The meantime has been too kind to its impression
Unkind to its façade
The chaos theory proven true
In their minute variation

The fanfare plays, too often flat
The welcome feast is stale at that
Debriefing passes, inauspicious
The silent distance surreptitious
Replacements ready, set in place
Just one last chance to see the face
Of everything that’s left behind
That it might lay to rest in mind

The return.
This is no longer a home
Time can lose itself again.
Space is mercifully cold
Arms now folded at their sides
Never more
Return again.