Born in one country & raised in some
other,
In every new land, another sister or
brother,
Through no choice of his own, so well
travelled,
Memories in ageing muddled & so very
raveled.
Commonwealth kid, of thorn & dust-scuffed
knees,
Taken as tender baby, off to old nation´s
colonies,
Old Colonial days, through no choice of his
own,
Leaving him forever lost, seeking unknown
home.
Wild & feral, he would walk through
bush veldt,
Beneath cruel burning suns, hot enough to
melt,
Sent to boarding school so young, wide
& far flung,
Shoes squeezed onto small feet, reeking of
dung.
He told the world, “The Commonwealth´s my
home,
The Commonwealth is where I will never feel
alone,
I am just a Commonwealth kid, no matter how
old,
Always going back, like a sheep, to within
its safe fold.
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