A Place For The Soul To Heal
by Lorena Evans
Thursday, July 25, 2002
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I grew up in the country, with corn and cows and hay;
spent most of my teenage years wondering how to get away.
Those open fields and tractors didnít hold much appeal to me;
I knew there was bigger and better things that I just had to see.
So at 17 I left that farm, thinking Iíd never go back;
with everything I owned, tucked inside an old nap sack.
I thought I knew it all, but little did I know,
that by 22, tired and bruised, back to the farm Iíd go.
Daddy always told me I would change my mind someday;
but I just used to laugh every time Iíd hear him say,
ďThe grass ainít always greener, on the other side;
Donít give up everything you have, over selfish pride.
No, this farm ainít fancy, itís not made of glass and steel,
but itís full of love, you can see the blue sky above,
and itís a place where the soul can heal.Ē
yea, I found myself back on that old country farm,
boy was I glad to see my Mamaís open arms.
Daddy never said a word, just nodded when I walked in,
but I knew just what he was thinking, it was in his eyes and grin.
Well, I understand now thereís more to life, than those big city lights;
as I sit here on the front porch listening to a quiet country night.
and For the first time in my life, I believe this is where Iím meant to be,
and I can see my children laughing when they hear these words from me,
Yea, what a beautiful place for the soul to heal.
Copyright © 2002 Marjorie L. Carpenter
July 8, 2002, 5:03 PM