As he stood at the door admiring the view,
Something was missing his heart..it just knew
He drew in a breath and let out a sigh,
This was not home, he could not deny,
Home was rolling hills of emerald green,
And deep blue Oceans, as far as can be seen,
It was not just the land and the sea, that drew back this man,
It was mother and father, and the rest of his clan.
Although he now had a family and wife,
Still he longed for his old life
The neighbours , the friends,
The farm and animals which someone else tends,
He longed for a time when evenings were busy,
Fixing fences, tending lambs, working all day until his head grew dizzy.
He missed the old ways, his people, his land.
A tortured soul, would he ever be happy with his dealt hand.
Although sometimes happy, though never content,
His heart torn in two,
Between family and young crew.
Nothing could compare to the hills of Donegal
One day he’d be back, though his fortune may be small.
Not the riches he’d dreamt of, no not all.
He’d be whole again though, a full heart
If only he’d known it from the start.
The grass is not always greener, a familiar voice said
You made this bed, now lie it she said.
Lament all you like, won’t change a thing,
As he looked down at that old gold ring,
Life choices he made
A heavy price paid.