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