Making it home

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 Damp November night outside,
 indoors, behind the wall,
 senseless games of a crowd…
 
 Within the cold autumn air,
 faithful companions…
 A tune,
 A roll up,
 and a pint…
 Devour the darkness of night…
 
 Visiting players 
 never stay long…
 Passers by with just time for a fag…
 Occasionally come and go…
 
 He already knows…
 
 He’s making it alone…
 Not lonely though,
 he would say…
 
 Despite their pathetic rules,
 of dos and don’ts…
 He already knows…
 He’ll make it home…
 
 Face to face…
 Wearing a crown and a robe…
 He’d tell his story 
 of how he made it over…
 
 For many against all odds…
 He’d enter the burning furnace…
 with a waterboys song 
 inebriating everyone’s breath…
 
 The door would swing open…
 And wearing a crown and a robe…
 He’d tell his story 
 of how he made it over…
 
 Back where he belonged…
 
 Where he always belonged…
 
 A crown 
 A robe 
 A tune 
 A pint 
 A roll up…
 
 At home…
 Where they always belonged!

(Xoanxo, 2020)

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