longing for home

Headed down the highway.

Rain is coming down.

In the mirror I can see

the lights of our town

another lump in my throat

another knot in my chest.

The hardest part of going

is always leaving home.

never knowing where

how far or how long.

No road can ever take me

where I really want to go,

a quiet, still place within

that all spirit travelers know.

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