I’m Coming Home

Im Coming Home long poem

“I’m coming home”
that’s what she told me last december
a short twelve days to a Christmas morning
where the only present I could care for was waking next to her
only to sneak out of bed to prepare her morning coffee, with a hint of peppermint creamer of course

the snoqualmie pass was a rigid one
ever so more fierce through the months of winter
but it was the only road left open in horrid snowfall
maybe it was love at its purest form
that drove her to attempt such conditions
or maybe it was the way the moon mimicked the allure of passing car headlights
how could one stay away from this temptation
I pleaded with her to wait until morning
that december 26th could be our new christmas day
but she still insisted, saying firmly
“I’m coming home”

that december night
she chose to dance with the devil
with a thick sheet of highway ice as a dance floor
and oncoming traffic playing the role of lucifer himself..

news of fatality came in many forms
I first saw it in the relentless weeps of a lost mother
cries to god pleading to take her instead, questioning the allowance of this tragedy
I sensed it in a community that refused to accept such a fate
how everywhere I went, no one seemed to smile anymore
I felt it in the emotionless face of shock of a broken father
that hasn’t spoken a word in weeks
a father that fights back the silent tears at peak hours of the night
forsaking any attempt at sleep
and I heard it in a voicemail that I played on repetition each night
“I’m coming home” she said

the snowflakes fall slower now
unlike the velocity we were faced with before
still covering my tracks, masking my voyage prior to the next step
do I pace back and forth?
or tread repeating circles?
of this I am not certain
but the air is crisp and there is faint light fleeting from a dusk risen moonlight
and while oblivious to direction
I am moving
and for now, that has to be enough

they say home is a place of bliss
a euphoria not easily imitated
so I know any where I am with her
that will be my home

I travel in search of clouds that imitate her perfection
I follow the equator in hopes of warmth she once filled my heart with
and now if she has entered heavenly gates
I consider each day passing
a mile less between our hallowed embrace
closer to feeling whole again

so if you see one searching for answers at the bottom of each bottle
it is in hopes to fill the cracks of a broken heart
or images scaling foreign mountain heights toward an encumbered summit
only to get closer to the clouds she resides in
if you encounter me in my traveling endeavor
try to not hold me there too long
because I have places to find
people to meet, cities to roam
I promise I haven’t stopped searching darling
cause I’m coming home
I’m coming home

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

1 Comment on "I’m Coming Home"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Editorial Board

You are indeed a Find @kale_reichersamer, your poems pack in a punch! Every word you write finds its way to the heart and one cannot help but pause and sigh once one has read it through. such a refreshing perspective on those who are called wandering souls, maybe they are just lost and trying to find their way home.. you have a gift for reaching out and holding the reader until the last word and we are sure many more of your poems will find their way into our Editorial Picks. Wonderful Writing and waiting for lots more!



Home short poem

Sounds of the highway; so peaceful to me Warm cool breeze ; smell of the country air Mountain views; snow covered mountain peak Turkey’s talking; eating their feed loving the country Life; country air in the breeze. This is where

Away From Home

Away From Home short poem

A frame lifts the skirt of a portrait and throws her genitalia on your face. A twin blast has taken place. Why did you stand for eclecticism? The fables will miss you and blue horse will not return home. The

Second Home

Second Home short poem

My heart is your second home. Waiting for you to get home after a long day of work. Drive up the pathway of eyes and park. I’ll be looking behind the blinds. Talking to you the whole while. Pass the


Home short poem

I want to go somewhere where the rain is like thunder and the sky is like an ocean; where everything around me is so loud I cannot hear my brains thoughts; screams running through my skull and wrapping around my

Who Will See The Coming Of Rainfall

Who Will See The Coming Of Rainfall short poem

In three forms Two thirds; Still, Not to drink a drop, or two pots for bath. One-third in Coco cola bottle, One-third is in the Cleavage water, Then, we are throwing stones at the well, Waiting for the crow bath;