Belonging

The world fades,
as pink roses bloom.
The bell rings,
and in the distance,
sounds the whistle,
of an old black steam train,
awakening the nostalgia,
like the perfume of roses,
awakens my soul,
in the heart of friendship.
I chime the tower clock,
while the organ plays,
our favorite symphony,
as white doves fly away,
on the warm summer breeze,
that my heart releases,
at the beginning of winter.
The open fire crackles,
wrapping its warmth around me,
like a warm blanket,
on a cozy Sunday afternoon.
The tea in my hands,
smells like cinnamon and apples,
while the hot carrot cake,
lays untouched on my plate.
And as the first snowflakes fall,
I curl up in your arms,
where belonging is the same,
as being home on a cold winter day!