We smiled "hello" to the men in the coats, who waved us on to a cherry-red coach.

The destination: some place unknown, a land we heard from which legends were grown,
But, to us, we knew it would only be home, the final resting place of the worn rolling stones.

The journey was long, though in comfort we traveled, and the hazy long journey our dreams unraveled
Before we could arrive and make them come true, before we set foot on this life made new.

These days we drifted between sleep and tiredness--always haunted by constant weariness,
Wearing us down and killing resolve, finally, we listen to the call--the sweet dream's call.

But then we'd awake with eyes glued to the glass and nothing to peel us from the worlds we passed,
Where lands of books and fantasies were nothing compared to the things we would see.

The stars stared down through the darkest nights, and we shivered alone when he looked at the lights
That made us feel small and weak in this world. So we huddled together--in warmth we curled.

Some hills and mountains hovered like giants, incomprehensible Titans, misunderstood by science,
and dwarfing us fools, who tested our fortunes--already set in chiseled stone and ominous portents.

Disease warped tall and beautiful trees whose rings told stories of pasts that pleased
Even the biggest most needy beasts of a bygone era of revelry and feasts.

And then we were there, in the land of Saher, a place we knew we could find just a hair
Of the life that we wanted, the life that we needed, and here we watered, we planted, we seeded.

With one last look at the coach behind, as it took the path down past our little road sign,
We realized as we walked up the door, the journey was to home, the place we were before.