Where the Sidewalk Ends

Plodding along the uneven sidewalks,
Christmas lights and street lamps
hazy through glasses fogged
by steam escaping my own lips.
The smell of chimney smoke
suddenly slamming me back
to childhood.
Lazy evenings in front of the fire,
toes curled in to the latch-hook rug
Heather made so many years before,
roasting chestnuts by the hearth.
The smell of autumn in the winds
of yesteryear mingling with
the smell of snow in the air tonight.
Trudging up the stairs, I reach the door
to my apartment.
As I feel the clunk of locks unlocking,
I can’t help but wonder;
why these pangs of guilt
whenever I think of this as Home?

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