You Have To Work At Creating Your

My Father Moved Through Theys Of We, Singing Each New Leaf Out Of Each Tree, (and Every Child Was Sure That Spring Danced When She Heard My Father Sing).

Love Like Rain, Can Nourish From Above, Drenching Couples With Soaking Joy. But Sometimes, Under The Angry Heat Of Life, Love Dries On The Surface And Must Nourish From Below, Tending To Its Roots, Keeping Itself Alive.

A Wind Blew, And The Sand Around His Drawing Scattered. He Wrapped His Fingers Inside His Wife's, And Father Time Rekindled A Connection He Had Only Ever Had With Her. He Surrendered To That Sensation And Felt The Final Drops Of Their Lives Touch One Another, Like Water In A Cave, Top Meets Bottom, Heaven Meets Earth. As Their Eyes Closed, A Different Set Of Eyes Opened, And They Rose From The Ground As A Shared South, Up And Up, A Sun And A Moon In A Single Sky.

People Often Belittle The Place Where They Were Born.

We All Know How To Be A Child.