Groan of Home

The garage door groans before sunrise —

a rusty sigh pulled long,

metal rolling over tired tracks

like a breath caught between waking and leaving.

It wakes the floorboards and my skin,

a sound heavy with questions,

something arriving or slipping away

before the day can make sense.

That creak lives in the quiet,

stretching into the dark,

a slow pulse where home feels

equal parts welcome and waiting.