So here we are at our old home, Clem
I’ve a joy that makes me think of kin
Yet here though are we, there’s no sign of them
They too have moved on in this new world we’re in.
But we have here the creak of the old gate
By the cottage where once more we live
And the river I fear will still flood in spate
The forces of nature just never forgive.
Settled again, Clem, and the cottage is comfy
We’re happy here, me and your Ma
It’s a fact son, we’re folks of the country
Who you’ll sometimes visit in your car.
But it was fine working with you along at my side
Though for me it was too far from home
Yet I’m happy son that you stayed, you fill us with pride
But retired now we both choose no longer to roam.
©Joe Wilson – More thoughts of home…2016
A sort of sequel to ‘Dreaming of home’.
Both were written in a style similar to O. Henry
[William Sidney Porter (1862 – 1910)]