She walks amid the dreams of brick and stone
dreamed yesterday, then made for time to share,
the spirit of the past, she walks alone
but she will touch your hand if you are there.
Past cobbler's dens, and printer's alleyway,
down by the tannery, the five and dime,
and bakers who arose before the day,
she's known them all through pages of our time.
And she can sing you dreams from songs forgot,
that made our nation cling to unity,
in lessons sweet, and harsh that time has taught,
the blood of those who helped our dream to be.
She's black and white and she's red, white and blue,
and leads us all where we are going to.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2018