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It’s coming home to me again,

the wonder of my stable birth

with caring arms at hand to hold

my mother as sweat turned to glow -

and growth that ensued in the wake.

I travel now with lighter load

where I first passed as journeyman,

trailing on the forgotten road,

carried once, my father’s back,

now wizened mother on my own.

As dawn awakes, the lines are drawn,

no overtaking on the track,

following the asphalt path,

but waiting, as the rising son,

their hour to choose homecoming soon,

for them to know homecoming due.

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