The Trip Back
It was a long way home
I had wandered for many miles
Searching for that pot of gold
That’s said to be at the end
Of every rainbow
I saw a lot of rainbows
That stretched across galaxies
With no end in sight
But no hint of a pot of gold
Did I see
I encountered a lot of well-polished stones
And although there were
Well worn stones at home
They were warm stones
They had no jagged edges
The closer I got to home
The bigger the pot on the front porch became
And I could see shiny objects
Just out of my reach
I smiled and hastened my steps
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