No Different To Most Other Migrants

No different to most other migrants i have had my good and bad years
For the Town in view of Clara i have shed my last nostalgic tears
But like every other migrant memories with me does remain
Of a past that has gone forever and will never be again

Today i would be a stranger to many in Claraghatlea and Millstreet Town
Where i lived for many Seasons when my hair was a dark brown
Children of those i went to school with beyond mid life today
Time that rusts steel and iron turns the balding head to gray

Far south of Millstreet in Duhallow where as a boy i went to school
In the Moyne Shire of Victoria near the City of Warrnambool
On still evenings i can hear the waves of the Pacific rolling beachward in full tide
I am learning about Nature in the coastal countryside

Perhaps the one boy of my classroom who became addicted to penning rhyme
I have been an amateur rhymer over many years of time
Just one more addictive rhymer who does pen rhymes every day
Just for the love of doing it without the reward of pay

Every other migrant like me do have memories of their past
Of the years when they were younger only memories with them last
Sometimes on my flights of fancy i am back near Millstreet Town
Where i lived when i was younger and my hair was a dark brown.