Leather bound bag ready by the door
Mug and instant coffee sitting next to the stove
His old scratched spectacles perched on his map
After fifty six years, he was finally ready to go home.
He wasn’t hungry for his eggs, & he twisted his ring
He didn’t whistle that morning, & the birds didn’t sing a song
She was the love of his life, he missed her so
his life felt so over and useless, now that she was gone
all that he knew is he couldn’t stay here any more.
any and everything he saw made him think of the past…
Little did he know, who and what lay beyond his horizon,
It may have taken years, but he was going home, at last….