Going Home To Home

Twenty five years growing up in Georgia.

Then moved on spreading my wings.
Tried it out in South Carolina.
Where Magnolia trees bloom in the spring.

Wore a Stetson hat in San Antonio.
Paid five dollars to hear Johnnie Lee.
Learned two step in the honky tonks.
Surf fishing in Corpus Christi.

The longest move of them all.
For 30 years from Georgia been gone.
In South Florida, a climate I've loved.
But I knew deep down it's not home.

Most move south when they age.
I'm gonna do it different though
We decided to move north.
To my childhood home we go.

I'm heading home to Georgia.
Back where my family roots are.
Will be living in four seasons again.
Where winters are colder by far.

Can't wait to relive my heritage.
Saying my yonders and y'alls again.
Waving a glock is just not the same,
as seeing the wave of a friendly hand.

Red clay is fun for digging in.
Cleats on tires, not much demand.
Dirt cars race on red clay.
No dirt cars were racing in sand.

In Georgia, we say Merry Christmas.
Happy holidays is never spoken.
Don't shop stores selling holiday trees.
There, traditions are real and not broken.

The dirt race track from my youth.
Still there, but not raced on in years.
Can't wait to see it all again.
A mall built over it, one of my biggest fears.

Close to our home is Stone Mountain.
A carving of generals from the civil war.
A politician wanted to blast it.
I knew rednecks would show her the door.

The Capital with its bright gold dome.
A blue dome with a restaurant indoors.
Used to be the highest downtown.
Now its looking in the 31st floors.

Deer roaming about in the yard.
They know they are safe and sound.
They can stroll and eat freely.
Really liking the crab apples we found.

The real reason for our move.
Not stone carved photos or red clay.
To be around family I have missed,

most of my life that I've been away.

R. S. Morris