Beautiful Skin

crusted maple leaves on the front lawn
that intermingle with spilled morning decafs
rusting away, the mail box’s now crammed
with Betty Crocker coupons and ads for
MacMuffins, which usually goes directly to the trash

the chrysanthemums are creeping up the steps
for a vernal invasion but the Christmas tree
entangled in flimsy Martha Stewart decors
still lay asleep on a bed of cracked concrete

chandelier lights inside seeps through glass panes
a maize cream curtain parted slightly inside, and
locks begin to cling against anxious hands

a familiar face now pale and wrinkled
but still the most beautiful
in all of the world

I teared and trembled
“Mum, I’m back,
I’m home.