I think about the old homestead
The place where I was raised
The dusty roads so long ago
Oh, how I miss those days.

The golden sunsets on the farm
The scent of fresh cut hay
The rippling fields of corn so green
Would take my breath away.

Lazy days of summer bliss
A stroll down wooded lane
A canopy of stars at night
The smell of country rain.

The precious home where I grew up
Has crumbled to the ground
Nothing left but barren weeds
Where once, my life was found.

No mother left to fill the void
Of things that used to be
The one I cherished in my heart
Is now a memory.

On Mother’s Day next to her grave
The years just melt away
Her lovely face, I can now see
She holds a sweet bouquet.

The thoughts of home just disappear
Oh hear Hosanna sing
My mother dwells in Beulah land
She’s wearing angel wings.



©
Marilyn Ferguson ~ May 02, 2004

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