We moved from home to home.
We met in living rooms and kitchens
and bedrooms. We shared
meals and drinks and spoke
of life to each other.
We celebrated and danced.
We gathered around the words
and parsed out the meaning.
We asked the difficult questions
and left room for difficult answers.
We did that for years.
But we moved to new cities, new jobs.
Made new friends. Stopped writing
perhaps, beds shared with new bodies,
tables covered with new dishes,
new promises made. I hope
each of you still finds reasons
to celebrate, reasons to dance.
Maybe sometimes you remember us
sitting together on the floor.
Listening to poems, songs, stories.
Quietly drinking tea, lightly
nibbling on finger food and dainties.
I still carry those moments with me.
They still feel like home.
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