He has almost arrived, but his Journey’s not done.
So he steps from the train feeling no longer young.
He stands all alone in the cold and the damp
and looks up at the sky past the hissing gas lamp.
He picks up his bag without a cuss or a moan,
And steps out on the road for the long walk home.
Mile after mile as the day starts to fade
and at last past the stream in the now leafless glade.
He has reached his home with the last rays of sun
Now he can say that his journey is done.
(Oakworth, West Yorkshire. November 2014)
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