FEELS LIKE HOME

FEELS LIKE HOME

An easy chair just waiting there
to take my old tired bones,
A cup of tea and woe, is me,
a plate just filled with scones.

A magazine on the stand waits
for me to finish the story;
Old fuzzy slippers and my robe
that has already seen its glory.

I must admit, it feels like home,
a place that needs some stitches;
It's not a castle by any means,
but I can scratch where it itches.

The outside world will fade away
when I walk through the door,
safe in the comfort that it holds;
Now who could ask for more?

Countrymom
1/18/05

© Copyright 2005 Countrymom- Spirit of '76 (UN: countrymom at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Countrymom- Spirit of '76 has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.