Making His Way Home
It seems such an age
Since he started this love song
...
Somehow he forgot
who it was meant to be for
...
It seems he got lost
and delayed by the roadside
...
But now he’s making
his way back to your door
...
On the way for some reason
He found himself thinking
...
He was as old as his tongue
and a little older than his teeth,
...
He had
always tried to tell the truth
...
And he had never been a thief
so why has time forsaken him
...
And challenged his beliefs
will there ever be an answer ….
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Comments5
Good write Neville.
cheers n muchly ...
Love songs need a finish and home seems the place in which they like to end - - a sensitive story of losing direction before finding the right door again......... loved the lilt and the flow of this little gem Nev..........x
thanking you kindly my lovely Fay... I wrote this one in my head with my mandolin in mind .....
Always my pleasure to read and comment your artful pieces mon ami................x as ever - - Fay
Sometimes familiarity becomes the dominant desire. Aging brings a comfort when familiar things are nearby. A return to an an older love can be enhanced by memories and the accustomed approach. As to "challenging his beliefs," the past love now seems a selfish indulgence. "Truth," is the only answer. The "love song" will be finished once the harmony is complete. Terrific poem. - Phil A.
Gee.. thanks a million MF27 ... so much appreciated, as always ... Like I told Fay earlier, the words for this were predominantly written in my head with my mandolin in mind .. a guy gotta love something, write ..
Neville
Those answers will be there once your beliefs have been fulfilled.
Andy
fingers crossed mate .. thanks GF60 ..
... Neville
Neville,
This poem reminded me of one of the many stories my grandmother used to tell me when I was a child. Of the many, one that she told me was about “Un Vagabondo”
(A Wanderer).
She would always begin her stories with “C’era una volta...” (Once upon a time...)
I always thought they were fairytales because she would always begin her stories with “C’era una volta...” (Once upon a time)...until I got older. I realized that some were and some were not when my mom related the story of her uncle known as “Un Vagabondo”. This uncle...(one of many)...left his home when he was a young man.The only things he took with him were a change of clothing and his beloved mandolin. He loved his mandolin. He was gone for years until the day my grandmother heard the sound of that famous mandolin...
Thank you for sharing your poem. It brought me back a few years...the years of a happy childhood.
All the best
Laura🌻
P.S. - He did live
‘happily ever after’! 😊
thank you for sharing too Laura .. that must surely be another win win 🌻 🙂 🌻
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