Why are you always talking old woman?
talking about going back home.
‘I must go back,’ you say,
‘All the old people are dying,
I must go back before they're all gone
Go back to what, I wonder,
to lose your smile on friendless faces
and end your journey in the mud and gorse?
Your would scarcely recognize
your once green gentle valley,
nor know your kinfolk now.
So settle down old lady,
one foot tucked under your squatness,
the other tapping bare-toed on the floor,
sit and remember the old faces,
they have all gone back, but for you.