Prompted Poem: Home

Home is when I get the urge

to play that jazz

like no one's listening.

Not a place to retreat to

with demons to purge,

but a moment,

a feeling,

when I see your eyes glistening

with curiosity, my child.

When my love can sit down

with her coffee and paintbrush,

when we are who we are,

all the hype and no rush.

It puts the great "I M,"

in "improvisation."

Expression and growth

of the personal variety

with no concern yet for globalization

or even a sense of propriety.

No pressure, no stress,

home's a walk in the park.

Literally.