Going Home Again

Kneeling on my undone bed,
I open the tattered photo album.
I stare at the faded pictures
of the childhood home I once knew.
I notice this little boy,
his hair, blonde and full.
His height, short compared to his brothers
who stand two heads above his eyes.

Another picture, I see the front door,
its knob, inviting me to turn.
Twisting, I cross the threshold
as my family welcomes me home.
My brothers turn on the television,
with Pepsi bottles in their hands,
while Mom boils the angel hair
on the auburn stove she loves.

Dad walks in with his coal lunch pail
and removes his C & O cap;
he sits down at the kitchen table
to read The Daily Independent.
The setting warms my heart
as the images fade from my eyes;
I close the album cover and
reminisce those times once again.