On Her Way Home Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The roads hitherto go from here:
They have been going from carnival: they have been going
Up their roads;
They have been waiting for all of their stalwart children, but
What about this:
What about all of this, the Mexican dances, and my soul gone
Away,
My Alma gone on home, waiting by herself for the bolero to
Unfold,
Or neither waiting for anything from me- this is just all there is,
And the forests are the testaments to all of
Our hopes grown up feral and
By themselves,
Like the airplanes skydiving, and her heart there in the middle of
The road, accruing to other scimitars who shall never
Rust,
While she listens to the music in her car on the way home-
Blustering and contented,
And far away from home, but on her way-
On her way home.