The dojo, 

I miss the smell,

Of rubber mats and unwashed feet,

The sweat and tears my fists would greet,

The feel of sand tracked in by friends,

And the salutes shouted when the lesson ends,

Of Honor, Perseverence, and hard won skill, 

The punches traded through iron will, 

Joking in the locker room, 

Pretending to sword fight with a broom,

Training my katas for hours a day,

Letting the days be kicked away,

My sensei standing stern and tall, 

It was from him that we learned it all,

But of all the places that come and go,

My first true home was our dojo.