In memory i can scent the sweetness of hay
From old sunlit meadows from here far away
And young birds are chirping on the leafy trees
On a nice day in July of around twenty degrees
Above the bracken clad hill overlooking the town
The little lark in feathers of grey and brown
A musical speck in the afternoon sky
Is singing as up to the clouds he does fly
The great gift of memory is such a wonderful thing
And every good memory joy with it does bring
The only link to the past that we do retain
That till the day that we do die with us will remain
We cannot return to the what used to be
And time that catches up on everyone is catching up on me
And though we cannot physically return to the forever gone
The good memories of the past in us does live on
Like the Parisian loves Paris and the Roman loves Rome
The migrant retain the good memories of home
And from old sunlit meadows the sweet scent of hay
Comes wafting to me from July far away.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
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