The songs of the birds carrying in the wind driven rain
In fancy he is back in the past again
With his young friends on the sidewalks cycling up and down
Where he was born and raised in the far away town.
The years have left him looking older and gray
His eldest grandchild a young parent today
His wife left him for a younger man two decades ago
He says I'm better off without her or it would seem so.
He still speaks with the accent he came here with today
From his hometown far north of here and far away
Yet despite more than fifty years in this southern city of a Southern Land
His way of speaking some do find hard to understand.
Nostalgia for what was often brings him close to tears
Any of the friends of his youth he has not seen for years
Fond thoughts of good times of the past we do like to retain
In his memories of them young they do remain.
Quite healthy and fit for one aged seventy three
And happy with his lot he does seem carefree
Still in fancy with his young friends he cycles in the town far away
Good memories die hard as some are known to say.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment