First comes the journeying Through clouds of people Passing under gasses of fear, Of suspicion, Over half hidden faces, Or a kindly smile in the corner of an eye. A train you can sit in, Kids being made to behave The first cough gets looks of judgment Finally the countryside Your house. Home. You stand more frail Tentative on your feet. I want to hold you, But hate to have this be the one That makes it the last. That thought in my head Stops me from being human. You take my hand and squeeze Breath into my heart, And I'm back, a baby in your arms Though I am here a silently crying giant.