Honeysuckle

Wild and untamed
It grew up our home
the smell so pungent
plunges me back to a time
when things seemed better
I realize that this house
was never a home
home are the presents
always found on the stairs
the green hairdryer
the late night phone calls
the sadness
it's the post-box red front door
the summer evenings
the doorstop, the black eye
the window and 'the boys'
the contradicting space
it's the table set for three, instead of four
home is your hat, your smile, your sadness
It's the honeysuckle
And every time i get that sent
I close my eyes
and it takes me home