Coming Home To You (poem)

 

Coming Home To You 

See, I’ve never been much for staying still.

I’ve been a traveler by trade since I first learned the rhythm of a song—

Moving from the emotional peaks to the jagged, dusty end of the road.

But I’m ready now.

Ready to drop this heavy load right here at your feet.

Because there are things—quiet things—I need you to know.

And once you do?

The real me finally gets to show.

I’ve lived in Youngstown.

I’ve traced the steady lines of Boardman and Howland.

And don’t even get me started on the hum of Cleveland,

the shadows of Mansfield, or the long reach of Columbus.

I’ve seen the whole Ohio region, I’ve seen it all.

From the wind-whipped corners of Chicago

To the thundering, silver mist of Niagara Fall.

I hit the pulse of Atlanta, Georgia,

And stood small under the neon of New York, those Big City lights.

But Mississippi?

That’s where the traveling finally turned into peace in the night.

I felt that Florida sun—and man, it’s beautiful...

It really is.

But when the engine cuts and the maps are folded,

And all is said and done—

I’m coming home to you.

It’s the best trip I will ever do.

Because a house is just a structure,

And a home?

Home is nothing without you.

I’ve slept under city lights that refused to let me rest,

Putting every "maybe" and "what if" to the ultimate test.

I carried a suitcase full of secrets I never told,

Watching the scenery blur through the window from the green into the gold.

But those miles?

They were just a bridge I had to cross

To realize that without you,

I wasn't traveling—I was just beautifully lost.

You see, maybe it takes a journey

Just to get back to the truth you already knew.

Maybe it’s not about the empty spaces we leave,

But the spaces filled up—only by you.

I’ve learned the hard way that home isn't a place.

It isn't a zip code, a landmark, or a street.

It’s a pair of arms.

I’m trading the road for the light of my northern star.

I’m coming home...

Because I just want to be anywhere you are.