Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Sometimes On My Flights Of Fancy

Sometimes on my flights of fancy friends of the past i do meet
On a balmy Summer evening in the old Town of Millstreet
In visualizations of the bygone the hands of time seem to stand still
It does not seem like thirty Summers since i last saw Clara Hill

Some i knew no longer living with the deceased they now lay
And some are growing old in Duhallow their children parents of today
And some like me with yearn for travel in the home Parish did not stay
Their better days now long behind them from north Cork aging far away

I remember Summer evenings in the prime of sweet July
When the dark winged barn swallows chased flying insects in the sky
We played soccer in the Town Park till the gloaming of the twilight
Going back in time many a Summer many a day and many a night

Sometimes on my flights of fancy i can hear a robin sing
On a leafy silver birch tree on an evening in the spring
When the hawthorns looked resplendent cloaked in their white blooms of the May
Yet the now is all that does matter as the wise are known to say

Often on my flights of fancy i am back in Millstreet Town
Near where i lived on long gone Summers when my hair was darker brown
Yet all i have now are the memories of the long gone long ago
Time has left me feeling and looking older time that becomes everyone's foe.

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