A Journey Home
A hum reverberates through a waiting, weary soul
On his journey toward home
He sits and waits so patiently, as impatience creeps up on how he sees
As he sits, deferring now; this is the way he performs his how
To get on back without a fuss, he ponders on this smelly bus….
The day is grey, as often is,
As he peers through the dirty glass,
The rainfall sprinkling all those they pass,
The wheels doth turn, the wind does whizz
As he, in movement, rolleth on
Leaving there, and heading yon!
With tired eyes on road ahead,
Comfort awaits him in his bed.