Driving up, your glow swells & opens,
like the air is a curtain you can part

to engulf me. There is no better sight
than my own messy table, my laptop

the intermingling of our everyday
clutter. Some days, I come home

to roasted vegetables & the beginning
of a TV series I will accidentally fall

into, the easy laughter of people
who will listen if I’ve had a bad day

or a good one. Other days, the kitchen
is hollow & I am a burning candle

in my own smile, standing with my back
to the darkness, grateful that someone

cared enough to leave the light waiting
for my arrival. When I know I’ll be alone,

I leave the light on for my damn self–
proof that I am my own arrival,

my own happy ending, the only
glow I need to find my way home.