Lost among familiar ground

I look at the world but see only you.

I hear wind‑whispers fluttering through the palm trees,

Speaking in sigh language.

The sighs become words, the words become sentences.

I hear your deep voice cajoling me, "Come home!"

The unbearable familiarity of your voice

Somehow rides the wind, echoing, echoing.

The sound bounces back and forth from the untouchable mountains where I am

To the soft, loving, comfortable hills where you are.

You are home.