Wandering Poem by Toni Atchison

There's a house that waits for me
down at the end of the street,
where my lover waits with open arms
to cure my wandering feet.
The man who waits in this little house,
whose eyes I've come to love
knows that I must see it all,
from earth below to heaven above.
So down in this house
at the end of the street,
my true love waits for me.
Who kisses my lips
and warms my soul,
and sweeps me off my wandering feet.

3-30-08