A Place I Know

There is a place I know
where dreams are dreamed
and hopes are hoped,
where forgiveness is served 
fresh daily and patience
is usually plentiful.
Home.

This place is not bound by location,
not defined by boundaries or borders.
It is a launching pad and a secret
refuge, a place where memories
are made and failures forgotten.
Home.

No matter where I roam, I
carry it with me, the hallways,
the fragrances, the sound of the
screen door banging shut,
colors, textures, that squeaking
floor in the bathroom.
Home.

There is a dining room in my mind,
a black wooden table set for eight,
covered by a white lace cloth, the
smells of fried chicken, seasoned
green beans, mounds of mashed
potatoes.  Laughter.  "Here, have
some more.  There's plenty."
A chair for me.
Home.