Coming Home

Like an old familiar song that plays inside your head
Like the way the blankets feel when lying in your bed
Like the way the sun shines through the shadows on the ground
Like the way your eyes shine when something lost is found

Coming home, yes coming home I cannot wait to be
Among the things that for so long made up the whole of me
Coming home, yes coming home my heart is sick for home
And when I come at last to rest I’ll shelter from the storm

Like the way my hat fall left when hanging on the hook
Like the way the sparrows preen the nest they long forsook
Like the way my door will stick when winter brings the cold
Like the way I love my truck although it’s getting old

Coming home, yes coming home I’ll see my children play
Though their little happy feet have long since moved away
Surely all my memories of them will never die
Their laugher, still an echo in our minds, for you and I

Like the swaying, branching limbs that we watched through the glass
Like the raindrops slipping by, the moments never last
Like the empty rooms where toys and clothes lay all around
Like the mess I long to see again where none is found

Coming home, yes coming home, I find that I can see
You are simply always there, my friend that never leaves
So when my longing for the past, back out of which we grew
Leads me where I cannot go, I come back home to you.