I don’t chase the clock.
I just keep the porchlight burning.

It’s not a beacon.
It’s a promise.
A soft glow that says:
You are welcome.
You are wanted.
You are known.

I don’t ask where you’ve been.
I don’t worry what the night holds.
I trust the stars to guide you
and the silence to keep you safe.

When you return—
whether in footsteps or memory—
you’ll find me here,
barefoot,
heart open,
light on.