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Southern Skies


I'll always miss my home town, country roads lined with tall pine trees,

That place where I grew up, there, as my memory of time all so flees.

Brought up right by gentle hands, those southern days are so missed,

Beautiful sun ups, marvelous sundowns, fine nights, a moon has kissed.


All those days spent in the warm sunshine, fishing, swimming in the creek,

The wonderful smell of jasmine, magnolias at night, raindrops on my cheek.

Running in my bare feet, or chasing my pals in cut-off jeans, an old T-shirt,

Catching lightning bugs in the dark, at night, leaving my tracks in the red dirt.


My favorite time was when in a tree, I'd climb, imagining my flight in the sky,

Watching the birds and squirrels all to run, to fly, as new nests then I'd spy.

Camping out at night under the stars, wondering what it's like to be on Mars,

Make homemade ice cream, pick wild berries, going to drive-in movies in cars.


My southern times are all so cherished, each one in my memory will stay,

Precious days in all the ways, as those family visits to church, we to pray.

Having dinner on the grounds, singing hymns, the choir, wondrous sounds,

Family gatherings at Thanksgiving, at Christmas time, where love abounds.


Some day I'd like to go back, for only in memory not to mean as much,

I'd walk those roads where I did as a kid, then go to the creek, and such.

I'll make a wish I could see my old friends, visit church, sit down in a pew,

Then say a prayer for all, and to resolve, for whom angels sing, it is you.


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