I Always Come Back To You


Doors swing out, dead leaves fall, years push by us.

I’m always on the lookout for the latest new thing,

the next big undertaking, one more shiny penny.

But I always come back to you.


There is nothing so enlivening as the wandering out.

The chance to manufacture for ourselves the ideal,

the perfect, the everlasting – if only for a moment.

But I always come back to you.


Yet I haven’t fooled anyone, least of all myself, not

today anyway. The doors have closed, the leaves

have all scattered, and I’ve stopped pretending,

That I always come back to you.



Copyright 2019

Image Credit: Pixabay

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