homecoming

we take such moments as we can
what is allowed we cannot tell
there is no central map or plan
the journey does not end in hell

nor is a heaven on the cards
for all the holy good and true
the distance is not miles nor yards
and what we find is never new

allow the words to have their time
we come we go and that is all
we tell the truth in prose or rhyme
we rise we falter and we fall

there is no sign beyond the last
we cannot bend our sight so far
we fade quite swiftly to the past
to those who come there is no bar

allow us but a moment's peace
to sing our songs and tell our tales
to stand upright behind the crease
and cry out at the falling bails

this world is neither round nor flat
but follows quite a crooked line
we have our seconds at the bat
and then we go while others dine