Tuesday, June 23, 2015

All He Has Are Memories

He only has memories of the what used to be
Of the place that he left in nineteen sixty three
In May when the wildflowers of Nature were resplendent in full bloom
In the old fields that bordered the Town of Macroom

He remembers the first great love of his life
The golden haired teenager who did not become his wife
With eyes as blue as the ripened sloe
But going back in time that now seems long ago

He wonders about her is she a mother and grandmother today
Or growing old in Macroom as single did stay
Or like him from the Hometown does she live far away
We all have our journeys in life one might say

He has not been in Macroom for forty years this does seem quite a long time
A widower in his early seventies his only child a daughter has twin sons in their lives prime
He only has fading memories of where to manhood he did grow
In the old mid Cork Town where the Sullane does flow

On towards the River Lane that flows to the River Lee
The lives of the rivers predate history
All he has are memories of Seasons long gone
And age telling on him and time ticking on.

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