Standing In A Grove Of Ancient Oaks

April 27, 2009
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(A Haiku Of Memories)

Farm Of My Childhood
I Still Hear Their Whispering
On The Hill Above

Swift Rain Trikles Down
Tall Mountains Whisper My Name
I Am Free At Last

Live Oaks Line The Road
As Fishing Poles Swing With Life
On Glistening Streams

Young Boy's Reflection
Smiling Towards Blue Horizon
Simple, Home At Last!

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