Bedford

With childhood eyes, reflecting Clear mountain day, remembering Fresh cut hay, reviving Together we’d play, etching Memories never to be forgotten The morning crisp, awakening Aromas hint, of baking Small morning eyes, awaiting The wrinkled chef, creating The delicacies of home-made art Calloused hands, observing A rugged land, preserving Unwilling souls, still learning Dust and heat for hours, shaping Young men soon to face the world Cool mountain shadow, approaching The weathered rancher, nodding Nightly ventures, seeking The crystal streams, providing All a boy could ever want The dinner table, calling The cold night gently, falling The glow from window, beaming Through which family is seen, praying Thanking God for what He’s given The warm fire softly, crackling The elder folk, chatting While childhood eyes slip, drifting Off to pleasant dreams, forever Calling my heart back home to Bedford