No Different

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.