Of Gargoyles that were once your own.
It was to odd fly across the Great Pond, and walk the streets so old where in this life I had never been.
Yet these old places cry out to me, in a secret and psychic voice.
Old friend old friend, you're back at last and you still know us oh rejoice rejoice.
And as so many ancient memories all at once begin, to call to me across the seas of time.
Soon the tears well up in the eyes, as I stare at what others can not see.
Oh Goddess, dear friends did I even live long enough back then say goodbye?
Then my local guide turns and looks at me oh so queer.
Wondering why would this stranger looking at these old stones seem to cry.
It was to odd fly across the Great Pond, and walk the streets so old where in this life I had never been.
Yet these old places cry out to me, in a secret and psychic voice.
Old friend old friend, you're back at last and you still know us oh rejoice rejoice.
And as so many ancient memories all at once begin, to call to me across the seas of time.
Soon the tears well up in the eyes, as I stare at what others can not see.
Oh Goddess, dear friends did I even live long enough back then say goodbye?
Then my local guide turns and looks at me oh so queer.
Wondering why would this stranger looking at these old stones seem to cry.
The Druid King
Thinking of days a few years ago in Munich when I had a real job.
Copyright 03-15-2012 George King
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