Thinking about these little things in my long life
Its time we came back home
It makes me sad though sometimes
Moments being gone in a blink of eye
But then I travel…again
I laugh with people, kiss special and pronounce them local food
I know the way to the oldest lamppost
That little old man on last street of Plaka with a glass of wine in his hand
Them applaud God watching sunset at the bay
Laughter, conversations, amber wine, beautiful little lunches at the end of the dock
Life in its evanescence, shades of blue Mediterranean and large orange moon rose higher
One fine morning, brooding on an unknown new world
I am reminded some birds aren’t meant to be caged
And when they fly away.
A part of you that remembers the locks does rejoice
Those walls gone long…
Place you lived in is pallid and empty
But from my perfect irresistible imagination a dream springs which I could hardly fail to grasp
Thinking about these little things in my very long life
Its time there was no home…
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