The years seem to fly and time ticking away <br />And what hair I have left on my head silver gray <br />And it goes without joy for me for to say <br />That I would be a stranger in Clara Today. <br /> <br />Perhaps even in Claraghatlea my old Homeplace <br />To many who live there mine would be a strange face <br />But the old fields I loved they would look much the same <br />I recall some of them even had their own name. <br /> <br />A migrant in this sunny Southern Land <br />Where my accent many struggle for to understand <br />A migrant here and a stranger by Clara is all I could be <br />And only the memories now live on with me <br /> <br />Of the very old fields where the rank rushes grow <br />In a place I once loved where many I did know <br />But the past is the past and life goes on somehow <br />And the future is ahead and we live in the now.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-stranger-by-clara-today/
