When I turned the key on the house
I anticipated my return.
A protracted absence ensues.
The air behind is trapped, absorbed my everything.
Heavy and lush as the garden.
Feet-weary carpets rebound.
Plants watered, counters subdued.
Traps baited in favorite niches.
Spiders already weaving like a sweatshop.
The kettle will sing again.
My legs will be elevated.
Home again from thousands of miles,
Planning my next getaway.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A visually rich reflection, nourishing the soul and exuding the peace of the comfort of home. A delightful read. Thank you!