ghost of present's past

. . . take me back

to ancient 18th century americana country roads 

by meandering brooks

weathered barns and stovepipe flues and tin lanterns

leathered tans and bamboo fishing poles

the musty scents, the whippoorwills

white church steeples, frozen lakes simple peoples

earth's sweet havens of innocence peace

tranquil days, firefly nights, lazy moons, quiet voices

when earth lay still, more still than now

. . .  take me past, friend ghost of times past

to times i admire most, 

captured by your realm

just for me and those who crave to follow

those few times where life was slow, tasted sweet and full

outside the midst of wars

 

take me to that past

where honey thick, dripped from golden combs

high up oak trees, hung by yellow buzzing bees

. . . take me back friend ghost of times past

when air was filled with a child's play

running in tiny bits of time by paths of peaceful minds, 

though they lasted but a moment's spark, 

let me there remain with shallow breaths of being,

never let it pass, leave me lost

lost in another time,

before today my wearied mind was thrown,

exposed to present violence 

news unrest with few notches left 

on strike of atomic clock's to midnight

. . . take me back, can you leave me there?

to bask and play, lay my head on mother's lap

where rest will ever stay, 

no worry dare ever take away

a land with no upheaval, 

no threat of murder's plot by man or spirit beast

no break of day to ignite night's fear, 

nor thumps and crashes at my door,

impending doom prophetic told

take me to another realm where my thoughts will ever stay 

filled with hallowed roads in all directions 

meandering by eternity's brilliant light