The years have left me looking balder and gray
And from the old fields i do live far away
But in my flights of fancy the silver tongued rill
Babbles to the river down the fields by the hill
When i visualize the nesting birds sing
In the groves and on the hedgerows in the prime of the Spring
And contented cattle chewing their cuds in the lush grassy fields lay
When the hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
The past may be gone but the memories remain
Of a place in fancy i visit again and again
And often in my flights of fancy i can hear a cow
Lowing at sunset in a field by the River Finnow
But that was in the past and the past it has gone
And the now is all that matters and life does go on.
Topic(s) of this poem: memories
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.