PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I love to watch the setting sun, in soft tranquility;

it fills my heart with memories of things that used to be,

returning me to yesteryear and all my youthful past;

remembering sunny springtime days when I was just a lass.

I have lived in this enchanted land, each day by God's will,

and though the years have slowly passed, my childhood's vivid still.

I dream of climbing orange trees and looking from above

across the southern countryside to view this land I love.



In springtime, sweet, sweet jasmine, and spreading live oak trees,

of parks and open spaces where the heart can wander free;

of lakes and cypress, spanish moss, and many wondrous things

enjoying each awakening the changing season brings.

The beauty of my childhood comes in sweet reverie,

beckoning for my return to where I long to be

The mockingbird, the coastal shores, simplicity's gentle face;

all these memories urge return back to the old home place.



In time I shall go back, I know, because I love it so;

now one compelling reason tells me I must go

to things I've missed, the magic, and colors I recall,

the beauty of my heritage, most precious gift of all.