The Hills of Home

The soul dances to the
passion within, from
seeing the green lush
hills of San Sabastian,

Childhood memories
flash in my head, of
Mango's, Avocados,
and strolls into town,

The relaxed disposition
of the people from town,

Who say: It's better to
reflect, than to rush in
and drown.

Guitars played music I
could see in the air,
that I've never been able
to find or compare,

The music I heard was
always of love, as I
passed through the square
in the middle of town,

The old ones, sat on their
chairs dispensing advice
on how you should live in
our small sleepy town,

The bells of our Church
rang, at the far end of town,

Inviting us all to spend Sunday
with our all mighty God,

Oh! San Sabastian, I'll never
forget of a childhood that was,
very well spent,

One day I'll return, to eat of your
Mango's and cavort on your hills,

I'll seat in my chair and report
as they did, and live out my life
in my small sleepy town,

Remembering the love I always
have felt, for my beautiful home
of San Sabastian.