Heading Home Poem by Bernard Kennedy

It has to be the warmest of feelings.
You have been away, and seen exciting scenes,
and eaten foods you never ate before,
and tasted delicacy.
And walked a stranger kind of street.
Then, near the end, of that nomadic path,
you know the tickets booked,
the train leaves prompt at nine,
and down you go,
with bags packed.

Like an exodus, others too, excited take their seats
and out pulls the train, goodbye that newer way.
Goodbye too the faces seen that journey on that path,
with maps and water and nomadic stare,
and home the heart is moved.