You study the map with your wind-up lantern,
and plot the next leg of the way.
Exhausted, but satisfied, your rolling mansion
provides the relief that you crave.

By moonlight, a settlement comes into sight,
and curiosly, you look on.
The sound of a violin reaches your height,
on the hill you call home 'til the morn.

You step out and put your foot firmly to root,
donning your jacket and scarf.
The village is small, but it plays you a song,
polished off with a feminine laugh.

As you battle through brush, heading down to the source,
you stumble and fall to the ground.
But now that you know there is somebody here,
you finally start to feel found.

The barns are ablaze with the music of life,
and you peek through a gap in the door.
There have to be forty or fifty of them -
as you scour the room, maybe more.

The barn door flies open, and out runs a boy,
followed by friends, arm in arm.
They play in the grass 'til they notice your shape,
then they stop and return to the barn.

A moment or two pass you by 'til you hear,
the voice of a man from above.
He welcomes you inside to join in the dance,
and you finally understand love.

As night turns to day, you wake up in a chair,
and the party before is a dream.
You look back up the hill - your home waits for you there,
but you'll never forget where you've been.