Home

A small and winding road 

With houses scattered here and there 

Along the side . . .but not in rows.

Tiny fragments framed beneath the mountain's stately pose.

And chimneys burn the kindling of life's love and warmth

As winter sings her finale song until another season.

Awe a breath of green and birds that echo life's delight

For any reason.

I see my life reflected in the pasture stream,

That wanders on it's way to who knows where.

And as the cow that stands to graze day after day.

Always there to dot the country's side;

And the scene more peaceful than it's ever been.

So does my heart feel just the same.

How long I've grown accustomed to it's simple splendor.

And memories take me back till I can ere remember.

Of days when life was nothing but a song,

And dance I would below the shady hill

Pretending all the word was just a stage,

And cat tails stood my audience at will.

Who was I?

Anyone I wished to be.

Somedays I wish I were a child again.

But here . . . My love will always be.

My souls delight will never let me roam, 

No,

Not far from this little winding road that I call . . . 

Home.

~Faye Crowther April 16,1991