The lights are on, in every town of England.
How I love to arrive, how I long to depart
Such are the little turrets in my heart
The lights are on, the evening has come
And as I walk the cold air nips at my skin.
I watch for the shadows, for trainers in the bushes
I keep a steely fighting anger within.
I long for warm nights in unknown cobbled alleyways
Even as I yearn for my bed, in my home, in my town.
In my England. So cold. So clean and orderly. So old.
The lights are on in every town of England.
All of our little stars like centuries of Light,
Mine too, I hope it burns as bright.
Comments about this poem (Arriving Home by Mina Harker )
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