Thoughts of Home

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted by M.Vernet
The Missing Years

Thoughts of Home

The cafe’ is dark and the talk is light
My mind wanders till I am out of your sight.
I am a wary stranger to all I see
Except for you sitting across from me.

A foreigner on a foreign shore
Striving for understanding and more.
Will I ever feel at ease away
From the home I left on that fateful day?

I watch you speak so fluently.
Sparkling eyes, laughing so easily.
You feel at home where ever you go
I envy you more than you’ll ever know.

Home should be right here by your side.
I truly am happy on our riotous ride.
But now and then I long for the sound
Of homey songs and friends all around.

Why do we ever start to roam?
Away from all we love and home?
Always wishing and wanting to return,
Yearning till the heart slowly burns.

The cafe’ is quiet and the hour is late.
I’ve lost track of time, days and dates.
I’ll follow you anywhere you want to go,
But I’ll hold a hope for home tomorrow.

The Violin Sings

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
Reprinted By M.Vernet
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886

The Violin Sings

Sometimes when you play the violin
Basking in firelight, with it under your chin
You think I am scribbling with my pen
About our cases and how they did end.

But many times the notes from your bow
Send me in ecstasy to lands I do not know.
These words I hear as the music brightly rings
Captures but a part of all that it sings.

Song # 7

Hawk upon the hill
Soaring in the breeze
Where am I to go with my Love?
Tell me where to go.

Goose upon the wing
Searching for the moon
Where am I to go with my Love?
Tell me where to go.

Where am I to go?
Where am I to go?
Where am I to go with my Love
Burning in my soul?

Cranes upon the field
Gleaning golden grain
Where am I to go with my Love?
Tell me where to go.

Gull above the sea
Calling to the waves
Where am I to go with my Love?
Tell me where to go.

I will go to the mountain peak.
I will go to the valley green.
I will go to the waving sea.

Mountain high
Valley low
Sailing on the sea.
I will take my love with me
But where am I to go?

Heron in the rook
Building nest of wood
I will stay right here with my Love.
For where am I to go?

Where am I to go?
Where am I to go?

A Small Country

From “The Poems of John H. Watson”
The Missing Years 1883 – 1886
Reprinted By M.Vernet

A Small Country

There is a small country
With just a few people,
And they are happy.
They live in Peace.

They know the world
But do not ever travel.
They experience everything
From the comfort of home.

Their weapons rust from age
In the golden fields of grain.
Their spears clear the land,
Their swords cut the corn.

Their hands know work
And rest on plain cloth.
They dress in soft beauty
In snug little houses.

And peaceful they are
To loud boisterous neighbors.
Admired by all,
Smiles of joy meet the stranger.

Sometimes as I wander
My heart skips a beat
As I cross a stone bridge
Covered with soft moss.

I think I may see
Over on the horizon
A small country with few people
Waiting for me.