Back to my roots for friend Bob

The sun is setting on the sea.
It paints the restless waters red.
I sit alone solitary
and from my vantage point I see

The sky darken to indigo
I sit alone and watch night fall.
I choose to stay although I know
that duty calls and I should go.

Back to the harsh reality
I have to cope with every day.
The endless noise of the city.
With which I feel no empathy.

I must suppose I’ll always be
the country boy that I once was
But driven by necessity
I left my home reluctantly.

There was no future there for me
No way to earn my daily bread
Just endless grinding poverty.
A prospect which I chose to flee.

I was naïve and hopeful then.
I thought the city offered me
A better chance to start again
But sadly I was mistaken.

The hungry city swallowed me.
I found a job which paid my way.
A porter in a mortuary
The ultimate in irony.

I served the dead to stay alive.
But every hour that I was free.
I needed fresh air to survive.
I took my car and I would drive.

Out to the hill above the sea
to fill my lungs with fresh clean air.
And for a little while be free
from scents and sounds of the city.

I will retire very soon.
I think that I have earned the right.
To sit outside my door at noon
or if I choose to watch the moon.

I shall go back where I belong
Back to the open countryside.
Although I’m old I am still strong
I have no doubt I’ll get along.

Quite happily where I should be
I was not meant for city life.
I‘ll leave the city thankfully.
Retirement will set me free.

26/07/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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