The aging migrants think of their first home-place every day
Though from there in distance they live far away
Yet old memories bring to them moments of joy
Of their happy times as a girl or a boy
Some of them grandparents and some of them single and childless did stay
But they share one thing in common from where they now live they were born and raised far away
And in a nearby cemetery their last remains may lay
Since death for all is inevitable only true to say
Old memories of the past are all we have to recall
And for each one of us there is a final Fall
But on their flights of fancy the migrants often go home again
Though of the what used to be only memories remain
The biological clocks ever tick on and on
And the past like all yesterdays in the forever gone.
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