Missing the South
Seeing the mosses hanging from the trees.
Feeling the warm and gentle breeze.
Smell that fragrant scent from the magnolia trees.
Touch the rich soil tha lies beneath my feet.
I hear a rhythm and blues melody that sounds so sweet.
I miss those things that are so fine.
Let me go back below the Mason-Dixon Line.
The south is the place I used to call home.
I want to return there and no longer roam.
inspired by another member's poem
Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2014
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