When I hear the front door open
I won't say the steps
of the routine dance,
but your slippers will
be by the door
so that your bare feet never touch
cold tile,
And I won't say that renegade
apple of a word,
but the soup will
be on the stove
so that it holds its warmth
for you,
And I won't say I waited
sleepless, Ithacan,
but the light will
be on in the next room
so that you know where to dock
your heart.