I come home to you, my sweet spires,
Dusted with the autumn rains,
Yours are rosy cheeks in painted figures,
Life in so many walks through mottled streets.

A crossing of adventures spanning,
Two different worlds and continents,
Strung out across two centuries,
Long roads without the guards.
Perhaps my world will vere towards,
A different trail without a floor,
Or ceiling though the rails are firm.

Trying not to crash and burn,
But touch down smooth,
Just as planes do,

Cease now! I told my tired cries,
But they remained,
Their call the same,

Sooner shall I wrap up lunch,
I tap out rhyme,
I rest the time,

The night delayed will soon run:
As darkness keeps,
Hushed minds asleep.