By Frodo Baggins  

The road winds on, though weary feet  
Have danced with shadow, kissed defeat.  
But still it leads, through vale and glen,  
To hearths of home and kin again.  

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The Shire awaits, in dew-draped green,  
With fields of gold and hills serene.  
Yet here I linger, heart grown old,  
A tale half-told, a fire gone cold.  

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O Samwise dear, my steadfast light,  
Through darkest depths, through endless night,  
Your hand was firm, your spirit true,  
Who bore me up when strength was few.  

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And yet, the world is vast and wide,  
With secrets hid where shadows bide.  
Shall we not pause to greet the morn,  
Where rivers sing on, and dreams are born?  
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I see the White Tree, tall and bright,  
Its silver leaves in moonlit light.  
I hear the cry of gulls afar,  
That call me hence beyond the star.  

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But here, tonight, let us remain,  
With pipe in hand and soft refrain.  
Good Old Toby’s smoke curls high,  
Like fleeting dreams against the sky.  
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For though the Ring is gone, unmade,  
Its weight upon my heart has stayed.  
Yet love endures, through pain and fear,  
My kin, my friends, hold sorrows far.  

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So sing, dear Sam, of Bywater's stream,  
Of Rosie’s smile, of farmer’s dream.  
For every step, each weary mile,  
Has brought us closer—homeward bound.  

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And though my heart may yearn for rest,  
For shores unseen, for peace’s crest,  
Tonight, beneath the starlit dome,  
I’m glad to share and call once more this road 
Our home. 

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