I’m going away, I’m going home.
But not quite.
The window sill with tinted yellow sorrow, still
Images and frames, exasperations and nicknames
All the difference makes it all the same
But something did quite change.
Older age and shrunken heads
The passion of youth, the fires of revolt
Somehow a bit more tame
And old lost parent inviting you for a good ol’ game
of chess, of cards or maybe something better
Drinks to All! Drinks to All! Drinks to All!
Life is wonderful, travel is joy
But there’s something in between, left. An eerie void.
A strange kind of un-belonging, If I may be permitted to say
Nay! Nay! Nay! Jolly ol’ boy, yer’ a man now! slaps the old uncle on the back
Stares and questions, raised eyebrows and elbow jabs
grins and gossip alight, welcome back circus clowns
To the most wonderful place around
One old man sits to his wine and wife
calls me close and asks me what about life
It’s all I brung back, sir
Gleam in his eye ‘let me tell ye a secret, It’s not what ye brung back, it’s what ye left’