His Home Poem by Paul Warren

The family home was abandoned there
With no one within miles to come to care
And the last surviving brother and son
Had moved away to the city in his own life won

But he had a hankering to see home again
For the last time in his life a memory to defend
So his took the bus for the last time
To retrace his footsteps to his home entwined

And when he stepped into the Main Street
He could feel his journey home was complete
So he lifted his pack to his back
And walked the ten miles up the track

It was nearing dark when he saw the old homestead
And he needed to take the pills the doctor had said
The lock on the door was broken as he walked on in
And he put his pack down on the floor with a cluttering din

He saw that nature would soon have its own way
As the house would fall over and slowly decay
And the cold of the night meant he'd need a fire
So he gathered wood for his stone fireplace desire

He cooked his billy for his English Breakfast blend
And heated the can of stew for dinner eating it to the end
Then he sat with his sleeping bag wrapped around
Looking into the fire place as the fire burnt down

His medication and the fire warmth made him fall asleep
Until the dawn on the horizon started to slowly creep
And he woke with a start to find the room was changed
Standing in a half circle around him was his family so arranged

His mother and father were looking at him and smiling
And his two older brothers were as soldiers so deguiling
It was strange and he sad, 'But you are all dead'
His mother said, ' But dear so are you, ' without dread

He stood up and looked down at his figure that was still
In the chair without breathing and it didn't look real
His mother said, ' Come it's time for us to go'
As he followed them into the bright white light show.

© Paul Warren Poetry