Is there such thing as living two separate lives?
I lived in a vale called the “Valley of the cobblers” were everyone
wore wooden clogs, a dead giveaway if you have been out late,
I have many friends there know me by my first name.
Have a homestead rising donkeys of the sturdy, strong type,
also sold miniature donkeys, children especially liked them
I had a man who looked after the animals when I had to return to
city life, but as time passed I came to believe my real life was
in the valley, because I feel like an intruder when I walk amongst
modern man – it could be the clogs- people stare at me
think of me as an abstraction a painting once seen on the wall of a café.
Went on a bus to get back where my friends were, the bus drove and drove
and when it stopped I hadn`t reached my destination.
Have to try again I miss my real life and want to come home.