Walking home on a cold autumn evening
The weary traveler treads the frozen ground,
Longing to reach his warm abode profound.
His aching feet drag with each heavy stride,
As his heart beats with a deep desire to reside.
Through the bitter winds and the biting cold,
He treks the path, feeling so alone and old.
But in the distance, amidst the trees,
A beacon of light he sees.
His house, his sanctuary, his place of rest,
A shelter from the cold that he detests.
He hurries forward, with renewed hope,
For the warmth of home will help him cope.
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