Home is where we sit the table
festooned in the joy
a quiet meal can mean

we two comfort our souls
while our two muffled voices buffet the air
blending with the candlelight.

Our slow night languishes
as we sip wine
smelling the rose bouquet
talking aimlessly;

more company
than discourse;
that being enough
for what we crave;

each heart
bathed in the reciprocity
deep emotions bring.

So here's my toast
to you my love;

you'll always have
this table set in this home
which is always here for you.

The home
which is always here;

in my heart.

Lonnie Hicks

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/home-137/