It is black but for the glow of streets lamped
scattered along the distant city roads
offering light, yet no warmth's omitted
except for the one light which I call home.
My eyelids dance as sleep beckons nearer,
closer to home, closer to my dark bed.
Yet I would just as soon forsake this sight,
comfort is complacency, no dearer;
by breaking its bonds I am free to roam
and do whatever I see permitted.
Free to say how I feel and share new odes
for although I'm happy I feel so cramped.
On another day, I will turn around
but at least for now I'm homeward bound.
No comments:
Post a Comment