With tired and cataract-foggy eyes
He stood gazing at
The lush green glade
and the arboreal stead.
It's wooden fence with a rickety gate.
Sunlight and moonbeam could easily filter
through the gaps in the wooden rafters
of the old hay-stacked barn.
He lumbered on the dusty trail
Moving towards the farm-
To its familiar sight and sound.
Grazing cows, clucking hens
And lilting tune of a bird song.
Sighing in vain he remorsefully touched
His weather-worn face with his work-worn hands.
He tried recalling his childhood memories
of life and land he had forsaken
to pursue his cherished dreams;
that he as a young lad had dreamt.
Caught in rat race he had denied his origin;
To which he now returned all spent,
To life, he had ignored,
To his the lair he had forgotten...
