A Bed of Hay
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A Bed of Hay
Across the fields a long time ago,
Where sparrows flew and lilies grew,
I skipped in play oblivious to hate,
And ran with the wind and sang with the beasts.
And slept on a bed of hay in America,
And dreamed of my home in Africa,
Where my heart gazed upon the children,
Who experience the breath of freedom.
Where the big cats prowl and elephants tramp,
And wildebeest herds roam the savannas.
And rivers churn with hippopotamuses,
And jungles swell with birds and gorillas.
And wonder what it would be like to be young again,
Without the child gone, free of pain.
Copyright © Dennis Spilchuk | Year Posted 2020
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