There she was sitting at the cobblestone steps,
Familiar but foreign.
When was the last time she was here?
The creak of the door and approaching footsteps.
That smile. A smile that she hadn’t seen in so long.
After all these years,
It still had that warmth, that tenderness,
That silent beckoning whisper to come closer.
Welling up inside, pounding chest,
Into those arms that opened to her.
Some things really will always be.
She was home.