I want to come back and sit

By the hearth of your warm abode.
Scathing winds tear me apart
Out here on my own.

My wants are few,
A sip of wine and a bite or two of bread,
A tiny room without a view, a place
To lay my head.

Crying loudly, “Let me in,”
And pounding vehemently on the door,
My knuckles are raw and bloody,
My calloused feet are bare.

The perimeter I have walked
In futile search of other entries,
Finding nothing but false portals,
There are none but this.

I spy, through an ancient window,
Moving shadows of flickering burns.
You must be home, please let me in,
Trusting I am firm.

Boldly, in my weariness,
I grab the knob to find it gives.
Looking back I see you carrying,
My body in your arms.