The Long Road Home

I.
The road was old, and long, and wide,
With dust that danced where dreams once died.
A crooked path through field and stone,
Yet every step felt not alone.

The trees remembered every face,
That passed beneath with hurried pace.
The wind would whisper names once known,
And leaves would hum a quiet tone.

II.

The sun was soft, the sky was kind,
But time kept stealing from the mind.
It took the laughter, left the ache,
And offered silence in its wake.

Yet still I walked, through dusk and dawn,
Through summer’s heat and winter’s fawn.
With every mile, I lost some weight,
Of memory’s cruel, reluctant freight.

III.

I saw a child beneath an elm,
Imagined once I ruled that realm.
A stick my sword, the clouds my fleet,
The wind my song, the dirt my seat.

But I grew tall, and skies grew pale,
And stories slipped from every tale.
I chased the stars, and missed the light,
Until my name fell out of sight.

IV.

There was a time I feared the dark,
The whisper of the closing arc.
But night is kind to eyes that burn,
And hides the things we can’t return.

It wraps the road in quiet shade,
Where all the loudest ghosts are laid.
And though they walk beside my frame,
They do not curse; they speak my name.

V.

I met a man with silver eyes,
Who told me truths, not laced with lies.
“Your path is yours,” he softly said,
“No matter where your steps have led.

Regret is just a coat too tight,
A burden worn to dim the light.
But wear it long, and you forget,
That sunlight doesn’t drown in debt.”

VI.

I thanked him with a nod and grin,
Then turned to face the world within.
My past was carved in crooked lines,
But roots grow deep where fate entwines.

I passed the hills where once I swore,
I’d never need to ask for more.
Now silence held me like a prayer,
A sacred hush, a breath of air.

VII.

The seasons bowed as I went through,
Their colors old, yet always new.
The spring returned with blooms of flame,
And whispered, “Still, you’re not the same.”

The summer laughed with golden pride,
And kissed the sweat upon my stride.
Then autumn danced in swirling gowns,
And covered roads in rusted crowns.

VIII.

The winter watched me slow my pace,
And etched its calm across my face.
Its icy fingers touched my spine,
And said, “You age, but still you shine.”

The world was vast, yet still it turned,
And every loss became a learned.
I carried less, and felt far more,
Of all I’d walked, and all before.

IX.

At times, I stopped to see the view,
Of lands I once so quickly flew.
The rivers bent like winding fate,
Each twist a moment, small and great.

I saw the house where I was born,
Now quiet, weathered, love-worn.
I touched the wall where names were scratched,
By hands now still, by lives unmatched.

X.

I met my shadow in the rain,
He danced with joy, and wept with pain.
He told me stories I forgot,
Of faces lost and battles fought.

He led me past the village square,
Where once I dreamed without a care.
The market still was rich with sound,
But fewer hearts and feet were found.

XI.

I watched a girl with painted shoes,
Who sang as if she couldn’t lose.
And in her eyes, I saw the spark,
That once had lit me through the dark.

She passed, and didn’t see my face,
Just nodded in a fleeting grace.
Yet in her song, I heard a thread,
Of all the things I’d left unsaid.

XII.

The road grew thinner near the end,
And every step began to bend.
The stars leaned close to guide my way,
Like patient friends who could not stay.

I saw the gate of wood and vine,
Where all I sought would soon align.
Beyond it, silence, not of fear,
But peace that hums when truth is near.

XIII.

And there, at last, a home I knew,
Not built of brick, but skies and dew.
A porch of light, a roof of stars,
A memory stitched into the scars.

No locks, no keys, no call to prove,
Just space enough to rest and move.
A fire burned, not fed by flame,
But warmth that whispered back my name.

XIV.

And in that place, I took my seat,
With weary bones and weathered feet.
The road behind me stretched so far,
A trail of ashes, light, and star.

I held no map, no trophy grand,
Just earth and breath, and open hand.
The long road home was not a race—
It was a love, a time, a place.

XV.

So let me fade into the blue,
Not gone, but changing, breaking through.
Each footstep sings beyond the dome—
I am the road, the dream, the home.