Sammi’s Weekender #156: home


It’s more than just a place
more than just some people,
more than loving others,
or being loved by them.

It’s more than all my memories,
more than sights or sounds,
more than tastes or smells,
more than what I’ve found.

Is home more than where my heart is?
Or where I hang my hat?
Is that where home is really at?

Is it true, as they say,
it’s not where I should stay,
never shall I pass that way again?

Maybe so, maybe not,
maybe home’s a feeling,
I felt somehow once before,
something just like that.

Like when I thought I knew the score.
Home, the best place
I’ve ever been before.


Look both ways if home is where ya stays.
Mind the gaps in floors for traps, never can we go back.

Sammi’s Weekender #151: Keepsake


It says,
“Sambo.Richards, Duck Pond, PA”
(northeast of Scranton)
on a keepsake;
a dog tag probably,
all the d’s are backwards.
It was my mother’s,
and I have others. Some
were my grandfather’s
who was quite the handyman.
I never knew Sambo,
nor my grandfather.
But I knew Mom.


Looking both ways,
keepsakes are memories,
sometimes not our own.
Mind the gaps. History is there.