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The Picnic By A Lake

I will remove the dust of time and decay, in a park by a clear blue lake; Oh, I have not been to this place of yesterday, but have heard about it over tea and cake. It was a Sunday tradition to pile in the car, I was told in family stories of old; there was food and grandpa played his guitar, and grandma said she picked wild marigold. In a park by a clear blue lake, I have black and white photos of that place; when, I look at them my heart does ache. all those faces smiling I want to embrace. They all came from here and there for a family picnic, arriving in those old, old cars so amazing; you had to arrive early to get your favorite spot pick, some would lay in the shade or in the sun blazing. In a park by a clear blue lake, family would gather to have fun on a summer day; and in storytelling everyone did partake, and after would drive home totally happy, tired and gay. _______________________________ Written for the contest, Back When sponsor, Line Gauthier

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