On a slow train heading home

I'm on a slow train heading home

with a bag full of useless currency and coins

from a mix of countries and places I've been

some with stories yet unseen

hits me like an icy blast of Irish spring

Going home in my own time

where hearts are beating rhythm

a rhythm I've got with music and my gal

to the place where walls are pulsing

when I start dancing, we start waltzing

down a river Southerly

that follows my mouth till Westerly

south to be home

everything's butter and honey

milk and wine

where I can spend my final time

on a can't-miss train unscheduled

nothing brewing, rearranged

I'm going where spirit soars higher

where fire burns brighter and nights have desire

Not growing old but growing older

making the road where keys fit doors

that makes the Lord’s laughter float

like the Lord has made me before

ridding myself of scornful desires

to a place where autumn leaves fall in springtime

and waters run inland through Chiayi

home and nowhere else would I reside

but a place that allows the sun to ride

the winds of trees that blossom by

The ancient diesel rail road slows me

Shows me what hurry can’t afford

The seconds of a dawn

with increments of sun on the horizon

and sunshine of love all day long

April 14, 2021

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