The Reverie of Coming Home

The virtue of this road is where it ends
For where it ends is also where it starts
Perspective lives, on which each trip depends
Where roads converge they also split apart
And where the roads converge they lead me home
A single path that seems to know the way
The road is empty but I’m not alone
Her thoughts have traveled with me through my day
And just below the sunset, on the right
Between the trees I catch a glimpse of gold
A window that reflects the day’s last light
A place where I’ll be held and where I’ll hold
She’s at the door as I pull up the drive
Her day is timed to when I will arrive

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