There’s a ranch that i remember,
where the willow and cottonwood grew.
Where you and i strolled
happily across the meadows,
such a long, long time ago.
In my memory forever lives a picture,
indelibly etched, clear and clean,
of a ranch rimmed with cedars,
like a crown of peace serene.
Where the swallows dipped and darted,
in their graceful sweeping flight.
The glorious moonbeams drenched
the rippling grain fields keen,
and the twinkling stars flashed
like myriad jewels in the night.
I often dream that i am returning
to the ranch i love so well,
nestled cozily in the mouth our own canyon,
it held a special spell.
In memory, i gaze across the valley,
to the far off mountain range,
the swallows, the grain, the willows,
in fond memory are deeply locked
there with you beside me.
Is part of us still remaining,
in that glorious meadow,
where i strolled alone with you,
in life’s springtime of early morning dew?
Now, life’s evening shadows sway back
to that gray, dead meadow
or the ranch we loved so dear,
as i lay here and dream,
of returning there
someday with you.
My Blog~Mystical Poetry, Prose, and Political Viewpoints