I had always wished for your return <br />to be like that of Odyssueus's. <br />A little world weary, <br />Battle scared and vague. <br />For you to sweep back into my life <br />hacking away my weed like woes <br />that had grown with vigour once <br />you left them and allowed them to return. <br />I imagined you sitting by my side <br />telling me of your tales <br />Like cowboys around a fire <br />sipping black metalic coffee <br />talking away the night. <br /> <br />And did the ease of not knowing <br />form into a smile when we met each <br />other in our reflecting eyes. <br />No <br />For this was not a book that could <br />be closed once the words dug <br />to deep, and this was not a movie <br />that could be silenced into nothing. <br />This was life, gritty and shit. <br />For you returned bruised, bloody <br />and broken with a bottle of whiskey <br />peeking out of your half hanging pocket. <br />Without one word offered you pissed <br />yourself on the 'welcome Home' rug <br />and collapsed in the doorway, the <br />same one you had left through two years before.<br /><br />Not Long Left<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/welcome-home-stranger/
