THE GRASS IS GREENER

 

Many folk begin life

In some quiet suburban street

Playing in the back yard

With siblings at their feet.

When spying through the palings

It’s not long before they sense

The fruit trees more enticing

Across the neighbour’s fence.

 

They remember growing older

And being taken for a ride

For a quiet family picnic

In the rustic countryside

But when these pleasant outings

Possessed no special thrills

One sensed it more alluring

On the far side of those hills.

 

And on a sunny afternoon

On a visit to the beach

The sparkling ocean calling

Seemed so far out of reach.

To see the sea birds soaring

Thought how nice ‘twould be to fly

And so they dreamt of soaring

Through the freedom of the sky.

The world and all its wonders

Just seemed a more exciting place

Than sitting round a hearth fire

At life’s routine daily pace.

With all our modern transport

Most folk can now explore

What promised fascination lies

Beyond each distant shore.

 

All those exotic places

Placed on a ‘bucket’ list

Hoping through the course of time

That none of them be missed.

No doubt of graphic interest, though

They’d probably most been seen

Already sitting quietly

Through their television screen.

 

When on that final journey

Comes that nagging little doubt

What all the hectic traveling

Was really all about

And over wide horizons

Despite how far they roam

Lies unbidden that one yearning

For the solitude of home.

                                    Rodd Sherwin