COMING HOME

Slipping out of my skin

And into your comfortable ways

Feeling like my best friend

Or those old worn shoes that love my feet so well,

Coming home to you

Candles, lighting path to your beating heart

So full of me I can see my likeness growing out of you

With each exhalation

Our union is a living mantra

Of giving, receiving, then giving again

Never quite full but always satisfied,

Hot oiled, massaged and bronzed

Bodies morph into one dreamy tangled arm mess

And I wonder how many more women like me

Have tasted man’s nectar so sweet

Steel tropical pan rhythms

Pushing me further to commit to just one

Coming home

I don’t need to be anything more

Never the first woman you fell in love with

Or the first one you kissed

No, the song you shared with her

Will never be ours

I can’t be that first love

But I can be your last,

Coming Home.