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Nine years my leave had spanned
            travelling to my island in the sun.
A native son returning his native land
           where the journey had all begun

And I by the grace of God survived
       the thrust and roar of engines loud.
Upon BeeWee silver wings we dived
         into that misty archipelago cloud

Piarco tarmac lights on plains below
         soon upon the trail of Queen's Park.
Charting the maps of time long ago -
    was late and the boulevard was dark

The banyan trees, the rustling palms,
           glow of that bright calypso moon.
To my soul a succour its island balms
      and cool sea breezes a gentle boon

Down the Churchill-Roosevelt to the sea
       and Beetham Highway shanties go by.
But was Port of Spain's restless quay
     that conspired to grab my roving eye

Fishing boats and cargo ships berth
         her clamourous city docks and pier.
The Gulf of Paria's sleepy channel firth -
    up Broadway to Independence Square

Upon the corner of Sweet Briar and Gray
             where as a boy I played in the rain.
Waking by carol song on Christmas Day,
       and hearken Greyfriar's sweet refrain

Memories flood eyes and ears and soul
          to see again the hills of Diego Martin.
Where on the big screen in days of old
       I saw movies at the Starlite Drive-in

See ancient Savannah parched and bare
            tormented by dry season's hot sun.
Yonder hazy hilltop ridges no better fare
           but soon the rains in deluge come

Over blustery Northern Straits we flew
          to Buccoo Reef and Nylon Pool coral.
Tobago's Crusoe shores came to view
         with her verdant hills rich and floral

Upon the Coast Road to Maracas bay
         drinking a fool's fill by the fire's flame.
But I was seventeen almost to the day
        and at seventeen I was always game

I met a lass whose eyes through me tore,
            more lovely than words can convey.
Beauty I've not known since or before -
             I'd like to remember her this way

Fondly I gazed the dormant Oval grounds,
         rapturous but for a short lived respite.
At my window did roar out the sounds
          of steelband and parang in the night

With February upon us quickly I fear
            Carnival's sleeping tribes awakened.
I had no costume, no robes to wear
         yet my burning spirit was unshaken

Soon on Jouvay morn at break of light
      spilled the hordes out of Sparrow's tent.
Revellers in the streets day and night
        till Las Lap, Ash Wednesday and Lent

But our time here had drawn to an end
           and leaving again bittersweet to me.
Saddened alas, but my heart did mend
      for what once was can again never be!


                  Written: May 1992
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