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I can hear the horses snorting, outside my bedroom window,
Even though it comes, from so many years ago;
Cotton from the cottonwoods flying through the air,
Making whitened dapples on my palomino mare;
The hounds are all out baying, it must be dinner time;
In my tiny little neighborhood, I was never scared of crime;
Family surrounded me, aunts and uncles all around,
It was quiet on our little street, no sirens made a sound;
My cousins and I would play outlaws, and we’d hide out for a day;
Making mighty forts from the fifty tons of hay;
It never really changed much, as I grew up through the years,
And remembering that it’s gone, always brings me close to tears.
(My Parents sold the house I grew up in last year - It still breaks my heart)
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