I Walk The Street Alone

I walk the street alone on this warm spring night, a
tattered umbrella in my left hand, a worn leather
bag in my right, 
I see the people as they stroll about, some laugh,
some cry, some feel left out.
I had a dream once, of life so fine, a house on a
hill, someone to love me, someone to call mine.
It's a dark and dreary night, the clouds float
above, all I ever wanted was to be in love.
The rain starts to fall, small drops at first, to
quench the dry earth, of its undying thirst.
As the drops grow larger, people run for cover, no
hiding for me, I have to see my lover.
I walk a path walked many times before, I see the
same sights that I've seen before.
Many a year I have walked this way, morning, noon,
all hours of the day.
I stop in front of a door so plain, its features
distorted by the falling rain.
I reach for the brass knob with a tired old hand,
for you see now, I am a tired old man.
Before I can grasp the knob, shiny and bright, I am
bathed in the glow from a warm porch light.
The door knob turns and the door opens wide, I see
your sweet smile as you welcome me home, you touch my
face and say honey please come inside.
All I ever wanted was to be in love, you were sent
to me like a gift from above.
I am a tired old man, that's easy to see, but I have
all I need, because you love me.