Coming Home
Somewhere, long ago, I found myself in this world.
Since then, I've been here and there, or in corners, curled.
I feel that I'm an intruder. I don't belong.
Nothing can be fathomed. It's confusing, strange and wrong.
I long for the day when I'll be coming home.
I've never been ready for this place. It's too big.
On this long, rolling road, I drive a lonely rig.
Everywhere I've been, I feel so alone and lost.
Everything is transient in this land I've crossed,
But, there's a place for me, and I'll be coming home.
Amongst the fake, I've always heard your voice that's true -
Sometimes gentle, sometimes strong, I've not forgotten you.
Your intonations find me, in you there is no harm.
Pull me to your bosom, and hold me in your arms.
Mother Earth, I'm returning to your fertile loam.
I won't leave you again, your baby's coming home.
Copyright ©
David Crandall
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