Monday, June 20, 2011

Like Every Migrant

Like every migrant i had a first home place
And to many there mine was a familiar face
But the years have left me looking older and gray
And in Claraghatlea i'd be a stranger today

Though life in the old Townland as usual goes on
Many i knew there to the Reaper have gone
Whilst many i knew there when in their life's prime
Are now walking slower and wearied by time

But the old fields i knew there some of them had their own name
Despite the passing of the Seasons i bet would look much the same
And old Clara Mountain when January winds blow
I'm sure would be wearing his Winter hat of snow

Memories of my first homeplace with me do remain
In March the breeding frogs croaked in the water filled drain
In their eggs like a mass of clear jelly their tadpoles did grow
Yet of Nature's ways i still have so much to know

Like every other migrant every woman and man
I grow old far from where my life's journey began
And though the now is what matter as many do say
Memories of the first home place with the migrant does stay.

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