Let me always remember
these sounds of home
that wash over me:
The soft whir of the laundry room fan
and the electric hum of a desk lamp.
The music of my sons—one practicing guitar chords,
the other whistling intermittently over homework.
Faint voices on the radio downstairs,
the throaty diesel engine of the neighbor’s truck.
At this moment, all is well
and I am enveloped,
borne into the evening
by a tide of audible peace and contentment.
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Bravo...I love it. I might write a poem on the sounds of my home on the other side of the planet. It sounds a little different but just as warm, when I think about it. (as long as the boys aren't fighting with each other)
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