A longing so deep-rooted within my mind,
feeds the anxiety and pain of a different kind,
the longing to go home, and to loved ones,
happiness brighter than a thousand splendid suns,
yet I shan't,
So I can't,
For I am nothing but a man of my duty,
And my duty lies in the city,
in the fastness of the motor tide,
yet the holiness of the countryside,
wherein my heart resides, my beloved,
for whom I must earn the daily bread,
beckons to me day and night,
and how I long for the sight,
of the freshly ploughed fields and the meadow,
where all are friends and none the foe,
And my heart longs to revisit the quarries,
Yet I must only do so in my memories.
©candoura
C