The
boy home! The prodigal son returns!
From
gothic towers to lannon stone house,
Arriving
like he never left, he yearns
Only
for milk and cereal. A mouse
Would
make more noise upon first entering,
Yet
a day passes, missed sleep is regained,
And
suddenly the boy is centering
His
days on lost pleasures. Tuesday it
rained,
But
Wednesday the sun came out and he ran
The
same old route, he played the same old songs,
He
drew a sketch in pencil of a man
Like
one Rodin once did in stone. He longs
To
roam again, I know; for now, I'm glad.
Happy
today, tomorrow I'll be sad.
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