Saturday, June 24, 2017

Perhaps In Reality

Perhaps in reality i will never again
See old Clara half cloaked in the gray fogs of rain
Or hear the babble of the silver tongued rill
Flowing down to the river in the fields by the hill

From the place i called home i live so far away
And i have not been back there for many a day
But the good memories of the what used to be does remain
Like the breeding frogs croaking in the waterlogged drain

On a cold night in February under a starlit sky
When a hunting fox was barking in a field nearby
The sounds of the Winter nights remain with me today
Of Nature's wild creatures in fields far away

I may have left the old fields but the fields followed me
And i retain the good memories of the what used to be
But of Nature we learn something new every day
We never stop learning it does seem this way

Perhaps in reality i will never more hear
A male robin singing in the Spring of the year
When the wildflowers are blooming in fields far away
And the hawthorns are cloaked in their white blooms of the May.

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