I want to go home.

Patricia Rogers' Weblog

I want to go home
and find the past still waiting.

I want to watch the red ants
running over my favourite marble slab
in the path.
I want to help the caterpillars crawl
up the steep side of the corrugated iron garage
to hide away.
I want to lift a butterfly who is drunk with nectar
from a buddleia flower
and hold it high on the end of my finger.
I want to hear the thump of my rabbit’s back legs
as he scuttles to the secret part of his hutch
when I come to clean him out.
I want to feed my pet throstle.
I want to stroke my dog.

I want to smell the soft air
from the washhouse
on a Monday morning
and see the steam rise above the door.
I want to the hear the sound
of a transistor radio bleating out
from the lid…

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