Friday, June 22, 2007

The Journey Home

Riding across the horizon

As the sun comes out

To fill the Texas sky

And illuminate our minds

And bring them to lands

They don't often go,

Across the massive sky

To a place we now call home,

Through the enchanted grass

Of that old Oklahoma

That I played in some years past

And danced through the mist

Like a native indian

Who traveled off to Arkansas-

Here we come, sweet Arkansas,

Where the last of my childhood lay

In the backyard in a grave.

And all that was left of me

Settled where life begins, in Tennessee.

The edge of the river ended our roam,

And end, for now, in a place called home.

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