Now I’m not poet – and I really know it! But a few years ago while learning and thinking about Key Town (which is something of a ghost town that is the source of lots of stories) the following lines came to me. I hope you enjoy my singular attempt at rhyme and meter
There is a place I love to
where mountains roll and wild flowers grow.
The roads are dirt but friends are many.
Life is hard and laughs aplenty.
In this land, the family reigns
with love and prayers to heal their pains.
This land is but my living dream
of the past to which I cling.
It’s stories told,
a history wrote.
By father and son alike
it keeps their world alive.
'Tis a balm to the soul
where none is old and all are whole.
I go there when I’ve questions asked
about the world that is our past.
Their old rule today applies
when in your heart the gospel lies.
And thru their eyes we may see
the world’s a better place to be.
It is a world that now is past
but their dreams will always last.
Lessons learned to me they teach
and from the grave a heart they’ll reach.