The Journey Home

The working day has reached its end,
But daylight left without a friend.
The clock says five, the sky says ten,
And winter's come to call again.

I pull my coat around me tight,
And step into the early night.
The bitter air against my face,
As tired footsteps find their pace.

The headlights dance along the street,
The pavement cold beneath my feet.
The windows glow with golden light,
Small pieces of warmth against the night.

The world moves on, the traffic flows,
And through the cold, the evening grows.
Some hurry home, some linger still,
As darkness settles on the hill.

I think about the day gone by,
Beneath a starless winter sky.
The things I've done, the words I've said,
The little thoughts inside my head.

And somewhere past the busy street,
A quiet home, a place to meet
The warmth that waits beyond the door,
Where winter cannot reach me anymore.

For though the sun has gone to rest,
And darkness wraps the world in its vest,
There's something lovely, soft and known,
About the winter journey home.