All He Has Are Memories

He only has memories of the what used to be Of the place that he left in nineteen sixty three In May when the wildflowers of Nature were resplendent in full bloom In the old fields that bordered the Town of Macroom He remembers the first great love of his life The golden haired teenager who did not become his wife With eyes as blue as the ripened sloe But going back in time that now seems long ago He wonders about her is she a mother and grandmother today Or growing old in Macroom as single did stay Or like him from the Hometown does she live far away We all have our journeys in life one might say He has not been in Macroom for forty years this does seem quite a long time A widower in his early seventies his only child a daughter has twin sons in their lives prime He only has fading memories of where to manhood he did grow In the old mid Cork Town where the Sullane does flow On towards the River Lane that flows to the River Lee The lives of the rivers predate history All he has are memories of Seasons long gone And age telling on him and time ticking on.