He is as restless as the ever babbling rill
That flows to the river from the field by the hill
On it's way to the ocean many miles away
A journey that ends at the saltwater bay
But between him and the rill the comparison ends there
For his journey through life it could end anywhere
Since he left his homeplace when his hair was dark brown
He has driven through many a village and town
Six months in the one place for him a long stay
And though the years have left him looking older and gray
He does not know himself where his last remains will lay
And he will travel on till his last night and day
The bug of the wander in him till he die
Since that is a fact and fact does never lie.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment