The Measurement Of Where I Am
By mcscraic
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The Measurement Of Where I Am
by Paul McCann
Long of exile , short of breath
wondering how much time is left .
Minutes are like miles away
and yet I still hope and pray ,
for the day I hope to see ,
the place that is home to me .
Ten thousand miles , maybe more
from that green and blessed shore ,
to where the best people are and that is just oh so far .
A lifetime being away
and there’s so much I could say ,
but it wouldn’t change a thing .
So here is where I’m living.
I think of those hills and farms
and those who open their arms ,
to welcome all who come home .
How many seeds have been sewn
and how tall has the grass grown
in the fields that I’d once known .
Too far for me now to see
but deep in the heart of me ,
is the sound of a heartbeat ,
where sadness and gladness meet ,
to say hello once again
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