Indeed. He journeyed far and wide and met a lot of different people, but he always wanted back. He always rushed back home, when he finally had the chance. He missed it. He missed the sweet and warm embrace of HIS OWN bed. He missed the people. He missed Her, whereever he was, She was the reason to come back home.
And She always waited for him.
She was always standing on the door, with her arms open.
He came back, he ran to her and swept her off the ground. She twirled and swirled through their garden and finally pushed his lips against her's. He could feel her heart beat fast and his wasn't better.
He loved her.
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