Traveling along edges of morning...
Dewed grasses
Brush our shoes...
Paths not present hours before
Change night songs
To Light's melodies.
We are renewed...
We walk home.
Traveling along edges of midday...
Briars burst with promises
Of sweet berries...
We make our way through
Forests' eldritch with
Lichen, vines, ferns...
We are aware...
We walk home.
Seated within edges of twilight...
Evening primroses scent
Our porches...
Doe and fawn wander beyond
The latticework frames...
Seeking grasses' bedding for the night.
We are content...
We are home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Coming home is perhaps the most satisfying experience we can have actually or metaphorically.