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Literature & Fiction

Retreat

There's years of purgatory
Reserved for my poor soul
But I'll not spend my time on earth
Hiding in a hole.

Next time you see a lonesome road
Or alone, walk down the lane
Remember what I've always said
"I'm coming back again."

It's not regret that's run me off
Nor was your love too cool,
It's just that there's a song out there
Only heard by certain fools.

It sings about a somewhere,
A place I haven't seen,
And, for me, that's reason good enough
To have to leave again.

The coffee's hot, the air is cool
The Sun's not out of bed,
On the whiteness of the pillow,
I see the shadow of your head.

The dog is laying by the car,
He knows I'm packed to go.
I'll lace my boots and bolt the door...
God, I hate to leave you so.

There's some who ride the rodeo,
Some drive a truck for days,
Or stand and serve in foreign lands,
Where a lonesome bugle plays.

But the ones like us, we don't get lost
However far we roam,
When someone special's waiting
At the place that we call home.

You know that you can keep me here,
Just ask me not to go.
But understand you'll lose the man
You like to think you know.

So, I'll let the dog inside the house,
And lock you safely in,
Then hit the road for somewhere else,
'Til I come home again.

(Published Spring 2000, in The Advocate)