[Verse 1] Where did the poets leave their fire, The kind that made the silence sing? Who took the key from every letter, Who clipped the language from its wings? There was a time a single verse Could make a stranger miss a home, Could cross a desert without water And leave a garden where it roamed. [Pre-Chorus] Tell me, did the words abandon us, Or did we turn away? Did poetry grow tired of knocking On hearts too busy to let it stay? [Chorus] Oh poetry, come home tonight, I've left the old door open wide. Bring back the words we used to mean, Before our hearts learned how to hide. Come like a bride across the dark, With one far star upon your dress, Come like an oasis finding A lonely traveler in the emptiness. Come home… Come home… We still remember tenderness. [Verse 2] I miss the days when words had fragrance, And songs had somewhere deep to go, When love was more than saying “love,” And every silence seemed to know. Perhaps the poets sold the key, Perhaps the ink forgot the rain, And all those pages, once alive, Became old fields of dust and pain. But underneath the burned-out earth A stubborn root may still remain— Waiting for one honest heart To teach the desert green again. [Chorus] Oh poetry, come home tonight, I've left the old door open wide. Bring back the words we used to mean, Before our hearts learned how to hide. Come like a bride across the dark, With one far star upon your dress, Come like an oasis finding A lonely traveler in the emptiness. Come home… Come home… We still remember tenderness. [Bridge — intimate, almost spoken] And if you come… Don't bring me perfect rhymes. Bring me the trembling voice Of someone saying “I love you” And meaning it. Bring an old perfume That opens doors inside us We had forgotten were there. Bring back the marketplace of poets— Not as a museum of yesterday, But alive… Young again… With something new to say. [Final Chorus — rising] Oh poetry, come home tonight, There's still a candle in mankind. Bring every color we have lost, Bring every word we left behind. And let us hear your footsteps coming, Street by street and door by door, Until the poems walk among us Like they used to walk before. And maybe love will hear them passing, Open its window to the sound… And poetry will fall in love, And love will learn to rhyme again. [Outro] I hear something in the distance… Softly crossing through the night. Don't speak. It may be poetry coming home.
