Exile – II

  
Exile – II

There never was that golden age, of which we like to boast.
In ancient times, men suffered – and in childhood so do most.
  
But when we’re far from our native land – the place where we were born,
We then forget those miseries and pine for what we’ve lost.

And as we age in exile, pleasant memories return,
And we are children once again, beneath our native sun.

And those we left behind and those, who long have left this Earth,
Appear again, as we had known them in our land of birth.

But then, we wake from daydreams and we know the past is gone,
And so must deal with being far from where we once were born.

There never was that Eden past, for mankind or for us.
But when we age in exile, that's what then appears to us.

2014 April 15th, Tue. 4:35 pm.
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York