“Come in. Come in, my child
We mustn’t lurk on doorways. It’s rude.
One might question your upbringing.”
Doors and doorways keep opening up,
Inviting me in as I make my way around my home country
on a short visit.
As I engross myself in a process of writing a book, I decided to visit my childhood home. It was sold to another owner 28 years ago. I visited last week, and I could still recognize these doorways of the remaining structures.
It’s good to be home.
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