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Monday, October 5, 2009

Holiday Acres

Weeping willows cry memories out loud,
Cascading with the wonder years
And falling down. Look around for lofty
Heights with secret signs…
Daylilies testify there was once proof of life.
The life we dreamt, it happened fast.
In this small place, we didn’t think we would last.
This place is our home through births and deaths,
And I keep coming back to be fulfilled.
Relying on memories,
And creating many

But on early summer mornings,
I can hear the doves warning
Mourning…
Dirty antique shops where treasure comes to die.
Dreams can be lost here,
But all will still try.
This place creates an affair of passion and hate,
A stately thing, like Main Street Bank.
Get your hands dirty and come take part
In a town of defeat and lost hearts.




Take pride in the struggles and the wounds that you gained.
I’m picking up the pieces and honoring your name.
On County Road One each day I go home,
I feel pride well up and wish you were here.
Come see the new tree house with a fresh painted sign,
The gardens are blooming with promise of life
This is our home inspired by strife,
Built up on love,
With a foundation of pain.

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