Transplanted*

Should I leave these changing skies where burn will not when passing die, so softly uttered last parting sigh? Eyes head so tired cannot rest oft times so hard decide what’s best. I find now here I cannot stay my home so distant left, so far away. I find now here that I was wrong now stranded body do not belong. I find now here some culture’s grate not all lament the fact, can relate. Transplanted persons like transplanted trees conditions climate, not all fit, adjust suitably. Transpose we can the natural order consider effect created within foreign border. Grafted thoughts, ideas, like species may grow strong. Others wither fade in certain seasons, cannot belong. A gentle spirit, a wild thing, cannot confine. To imprison such so wrong don’t ever bind. For that which is gone is gone forever. Price paid in due time, still returns not ever. Copyright © Terence George Craddock