Old Man's Dream
When I was a young man I dreamt a young man's dreams of bucolic fields and
mysterious streams
Those streams that would wisk me down to the sea.
There to board the ship that would carry me to far of lands and opportunity.
Now I am and old man and dream old man's dreams of the fire and hearth and
grandchildren's screams.
My ship now moored yet strains at the lines.
I hear her voice whisper come boy climb aboard let us journey one last time.
Copyright © Lawrence Goldman | Year Posted 2012
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