Exile - David Rothenberg

Now, in this faraway land

Strange, that the palms of my lands

Should be damp with expectancy

Spring, and the air’s turning mild

City lights, and the glimpse of a child

Of the alleyway infantry

Friends, do they know what I mean

Rain, and the gathering green

Of an afternoon out-of-town

But Lord I had to go

My trail was laid too slow behind me

To face the call of fame

Or make a junkyard’s name for me

Though now this other life

Has brought a different understanding

And from these endless days

Shall come a broader sympathy

And though I count the hours

To be alone’s no injury

My home, was a place near the sand

Cliffs, and a military band

Blew an air of normality.