A light in the darkness
Beckons me home
Merely a flame from a match
Touched to the wick of a candle.
The soft light
Welcomes me
Guides me
To the place
Where I belong.
To the home I left
So long ago
Rashly
Without thought.
The prodigal daughter
Making my way back
To the love and warmth
That I have done without.
Knowing by that light
In the windowsill
That I am welcomed.

A. Beckman 2000