What's For Tea? Poem by john coldwell

Coming home from the park,
Short trousers, and grazes on my knee,
I know I'm late, it's getting dark.
I wonder what's for tea?

Coming home, coming home,
It's was always there for me,
I'll get a clip about my ear,
But there will be something left for tea.

On lonely nights, on empty streets,
No thought have they for tea,
Only the silence of an empty cry,
For a fireside they never see.

Homelessness, a never ending fall,
That hideous vertigo of the soul,
There is no refuge at the end of it all,
And certainly no tea.

I'm glad I have a happy home.
And wife who cares for me.
Her welcome call on her way back home,
Just asked me, 'What's for tea? '

Three words to tell us where we belong,
They are an anchor in the sea.
Keep, or make, a happy home,
And welcome folks for tea.