It Was Not Want Or Hunger

It was not want or hunger that brought me far south Of the fields of the badger and watewrways of the brown trout But in search of adventure in the big World out there The migrant will always be one from elsewhere In my prime years i often daydreamed that i would be a poet One seen to be as worthy of literary note But daydreams as is known for few do come true And what i daydreamed of not to be my due Today i would be a stranger to many west of Millstreet Town Where i used to live when my hair was dark brown The passing of time has left me balding and gray I have known of a far better physical day We all have our dreams in life to pursue In this respect i am no different to you And though losing is a thing anyone does not choose For one for to win others do have to lose Far south of the fields of the silver backed crow In the green countryside where the Blackwater flow I am learning of life and Nature every day We never stop learning it does seem this way.