Churning over roads well traveled
beaten by the wind and snow
you hold your direction steady
wide awake on the voyage home.
Parallel lines stretch anchored
between tiny handfuls of cars,
as you watch the day's last light
fade beneath a heavy blanket of stars.
The cloak of night arrives with speed
lofty buildings and cities gone
cast off into an inky darkness
mere shadows of places you've known
So collect the little hours like teeth
Under all boundless, stretching skies
Beyond blind cliffs and ocean's waves
Above all dark the sun will rise.
Life is a well worn book of journeys
you march, ramble, and roam,
your years a slew of countless tales
the most important- the voyage home.
-Emily Caldwell
