Family

I was born in Mississippi 

This very small place

Mud on those jeans 

Dirt covered my face

My father was a farmer

With a philosophy degree 

I remember at the time 

That didn't mean much to me

Mother was a strong woman 

But still gentle and kind 

She held us all together

Toe the line 

I think about it now 

It just seems back so far

Dancing with mom by candlelight 

As dad played guitar 

Now the son has a son

Mother and father are gone

Dreaming about that old farm 

The family continues on

Reviews

[Papaya]

LOVE IT. This is perfect. The imagery, the story. Lyrical. Grab a guitar country boy...

[Neal S]

Thank you Ana!

[Papaya]

Welcome...

[Shannon]

Wow, Neal. Sentiment at it's finest, laid out for us, in a few generations. And a rhyme scheme, too.

[Neal S]

Thank ya ma'am!

[Shannon]

Again!? You're welcome, sir!

[Neal S]

lol ....:)