My Home Town Poem by Nero CaroZiv

The last time I saw my home town, her trees were dressed for spring,
And her people walked beneath those trees and birds found songs to sing.
The last time I saw my home town, her heart was warm and gay,
No matter how cruelly they change her, I'll remember her that way.

I dodged and hided in the fields of golden corn where I had roamed for years.
The chorus of the wind blowing the heavy loaded stems was music to my ears
I thought of happy hours and pure childhood lost, and laborious people who toiled their day
Old women, selling flowers, in markets at dawn, kids rushing to their play

Lonely I was, scanning with lonely eyes, seeking her in vain
Her streets are where they were, but there's no sign of her; the pain is insane
Where are the children who ran in the park and in sun sandy paths
And those who danced under summer night looked at the stars and laugh

I used to watch as a child the fair morning fog clearly chiming in its flowing before my eye;
Warmly and broadly the south winds were winding and blowing over the sky.
One after another the white clouds over the fields of wild tulips were fleeting;
Every heart that gorgeous May morning in joyance was brimming and beating

Ah, my home town, a place I love to come back like to music,
A place that hushes me and heals me when I am forlorn and tired;
I still see the phantom oak woods at the East with birds of sharp peak
In a flare of crimson by the frost old yet newly fired

As a child I spoke to the primrose that had opened her pale yellow flowers
And wandered under heaven lighting star after star after a day of spring showers.
A Place I love to come back to, be a child free, boundless and smiley
Mid-orchard, midnight, as the leaves are lulling drowsily;

The violet in mid field hidden in veil, on veil of evening calm
The hills across from the University sky line grew dreamy and far;
A wood-thrush was singing soft betraying no harm
In the heart of the hollow where the dark pools are;




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