Going Home!

Going Home!
By L. Don Oliver

The mansion stood upon a hill,
beside a spreading oak tree;
A place never to visit,
a place to never see,

The cool spring where she waded,
at the bottom of the hill;
A drinking gourd upon a nail,
for the thirsty toilers to fill;

Watermelons placed in the stream,
where the cool, cool waters play;
A reward for the tired workers,
at the end of the torrid day;

She can see her Father chopping wood,
to burn in their iron cooking stove;
She remembers the fruit that was picked,
from a nearby neighbor's grove;

She can hear her Mother calling,
children come home it's supper time;
Wash your hands before you come in,
of all that dirt and grime;

Her beautiful hazel eyes sparkle,
then they are clouded by her tears;
Oh, to become a child once more,
and remember not the vacant years;

She's just a little girl lost,
in the shadows of the moon;
Who's Prince never came along,
to sing his magic tune;

Gazing distantly through a window,
reminiscing of a far away plain,
Searching the landscape of her memory,
she longs to go back home again;

Teenage Spring

Teenage Spring!
By L. Don Oliver

Your teenage spring,
is such a frightening thing,
when night never meets the day;
Sometimes you cry and cry,
no one can understand why,
or what you are trying to say;
Parents say don't you do,
what they did too,
when they were your age;
They think they know how,
just what to do now,
to write your future page;
They don't live in your time,
where answers are hard to find,
they can't ache the way you feel,
But parents do ache at night,
when you are far from their sight,
their worries they try to steel;
And the final sum,
their sleep will never come,
while you are still away;
No one knows the secret of,
this thing we call love,
but we "must" show it every day;