A Place Called Home

It may be London, Paris or Rome
For all of us there is a place called home
It may be Beijiing, Rio or New York
For me 'tis a place called Millstreet County Cork.

When frost was on the blue December sloe
I left that place more than two decades ago
Finnow bank high in flood waters of brown
Flowed in the old fields west of Millstreet Town.

Old Claraghatlea where I first saw light of day
From my thoughts never ever far away
I visualize the fields in their wildflowers of May
And I hear the lark o'er the hill carol in the clouds of gray.

Manila, Moscow, Montreal, or Tokyo in Japan
Or some other place home to every woman or man
We all come from some-place wherever that be
Claraghatlea in Millstreet was once home to me.

Some from their home shores make new homes far away
Though in their Hometown others prefer to stay
We all have our original homeplaces like we all have a name
And we all are different no two of us are the same.