A world of the past
There is a small country town that I once knew
Though I had stayed there I was just passing through
I had watched the waters as they deftly churned
I watched the mountains as they slowly burned
Then I packed my bag and I never returned
Was a girl in that country that I had loved
But I watched from afar as she soared above
Her nature was free and she was ever bold
Her life was a story that's never been told
She was a girl that I was not born to hold
Well, summer is over, the grass is not green
Yet the sky is as blue as far as it is seen
But the winds will soon blow in from the east
And bring in a winter born of the beast
The best we can hope for is to be released
Tomorrow's out yonder, so far from our reach
And out there are the lessons that no one can teach
The one that is not free will remain enslaved
He will cry forever that he should be saved
Yet one day on stone his name will be engraved
Then sometimes at night when I am at my rest
I recall those suffering and pray they be blessed
If we meet in my dreams, I'd ask her how she's been
If I pass his stone, I'll bow to the one within
As for that country town, I might just pass through again
Copyright © Daniel Larson | Year Posted 2024
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