The faraway hills

 The faraway hills


Always over the faraway hills

Never the valley below 

Always the person over your shoulder

Never the person in front. 


Always a time in the future

Never the here and now

Always o’er yonder and later

Fleeing the real chasing the fleeting. 


Here we sit now some sixty years older

With nothing to show but froth

Bubbles that burst on needles of time

A cautious life lived in the shadows. 


To be on the safe side the talents were buried

Nothing was risked and nothing was gained

What might have beens fill up the night

Our cup overflows with what ifs.  


Come from the stars, returned to the stars

Nothing to show, fields that lie fallow.  

Life is a struggle, a messy old tale

That cannot be stored in fine porcelain. 


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