Your Migrant Child is Home

Your migrant child is home
The city has been kind
The neon lights that each night set lit
The zebra strips that criss cross the city
Also shone on him

He is  a man now
No longer a baby that longs for home
For a warm embrace of the village
He has grown a skin
That makes it hard to feel warmth

He is home
To see through the merry days
Though the merry days are long gone
And children play no more in the street
The streets are silent

Your migrant child is home
He is here
Though he has laboured through the toiling days
He is home
Empty handed