His family farmed in valley
land blessed with fertile loam.
For generations untold, this
had been their family home.
But, in his youth, he had been
smitten with the desire to roam.
So, with scarcely a look back,
the boy willingly left his home.
For many years he drank in
Europe – London, Paris, Rome.
Not once during those travels
did he ever think of going home.
He climbed mountains. He stood
on seashores, his feet awash in foam.
He lived many places, bedded many
women, but he never found a home.
Now a man seeking something to fill
the emptiness inside, he would comb
the world before he came to realize
that gnawing was the call of home.
He had sailed from Tokyo to Nome.
His exploits would fill a large tome.
Yet, nothing he had ever experienced
compared to the day he returned home.
With tears in his eyes and joy in his heart,
as he stood in his ancestral valley home,
he finally found peace and contentment.
He lived long, never again to leave home.
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