To those yearing for home
Dressed in a crisp striped shirt,
With creased formal pants;
And shoes without any dirt,
I looked far from nonchalant.
It was the image to portray,
I meant business, not play;
A day filled with meetings,
There was nothing endearing.
The day ended in the hotel room,
A warm bath and a lonely gloom;
In my punctured tee,
And worn out boxers, I finally felt free.
I felt like myself,
Without the need to impress any goodselves.
Like the comfort of a dear friend,
Like returning home after travels end.
I closed my eyes and soothed myself to sleep,
For a moment in time, I did not wish to flee.
But tomorrow the sun shall rise again,
As will my pretence for momentary gains.
The cycle will continue,
I will wear shirts of all formal hues.
The tattered clothes will bring solace,
Away from all prying gaze.