Ingrid Armstrong-Boehk


Sometimes I feel a sense of longing
And a tear will sting my eye
When I think of the old country
And then I wonder why?

What is it that I really miss?
Stalking through the knee-high snow?
The church bells on a Sunday morn
Where ever I would go?

Perhaps it is the pine tree forest?
The rolling hills outside of town
Awash with buttercups and daisies?
Or the church steeples glow at sundown?

Yet, if I really look around me
I find those things all here,
Except for you, my dear old friend.
I cannot find you anywhere.

Would love to see you once in a while.
And share old times again
See your warm, contagious smile.
And hear you say: Remember when?

However, this can never be
Were much too far apart
We cant erase the years gone by
But youre always in my heart.

Homesickness is, some will agree
Nothing but a painful yearning
For things the way they used to be:
The growing up, the learning

When as children, eyes full of wonder,
We impatiently waited for life
To take us to places exciting and new.
Our youth was the sacrifice.


All rights belong to its author. It was published on by demand of Ingrid Armstrong-Boehk.
Published on on 04/30/2006.


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