 |
| photo by: Poppi, Melodies & Musings, Guntersville, Alabama 2016 |
(c)2013 Steve Eulberg (BMI) administered by Owl Mountain Music, Inc.
His hand is on the handle, his hat is on his head
His feet are shod with well-worn traveling shoes...
He pauses to ponder how to bid his fond farewell
Wrestling with the words that he will choose.
It's not that he has to go
Or needs to be free
Sometimes he finds his home is on the road.
//: On the road, on the road,
Sometimes he finds his home is on the road. ://
Like a farmer walking fences, He ties the tattered lines
Binding the broken and alone
Setting new boundaries for friends both old and new
Weaves his web where all can find a home.
The destination beckons, drawing him on
While geese honk high overhead
He casts a single shadow on his solitary path
But he is never alone.
Center stripe is speeding by, as his tires chew up the miles
While echoes of applause line his trail....
His heart is beating quicker as the mountains hove in view
His lips recall their parting kiss
His hand is on the handle, his hat is in his hand
As her smile welcomes him in
It's not that he has to go
Or needs to be free
Sometimes he finds his home
Sometimes he finds his home
He always finds his home where he is.
On the road....
No comments:
Post a Comment