the long dusty rode ahead;

and home behind, as always.

 

the sky pink and fighting

the sun’s bitter diminishing,

 

above me the clouds roll slowly into oblivion,

and i wonder if that door even remains,

the one at the end of the dusty road,

with home behind and hope astride,

 

oh the road, the road, the road,

how i wish i could walk that loving path back

only forward,

cruel and lonely,

but still our work must be done

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