Traveler On the Backroads

~ poem “This Place I Call Home” by Michael Traveler, author/poet

the morning brushes over me like a mist, touches my face like a sweet kiss

sings to my soul a song as old as time

these mountains are a part of me they live in this heart of mine

tell a tale of long ago when the world was young

And had just begun

the rivers were wild and free to run

the skies were clear and the wildflowers shimmered

in the light of the sun

Yes, life had just begun

my ancestors camped in these meadows where the wildflowers flourished and butterflies flitted from flower to flower

And deer knelt by the cool mountain stream for a sip of water in the shade of the trees

it’s here that my tribe raised children, made memories and handed traditions down father to son, mother to daughter.

down through the ages through the winds of time in these hills of mine

magical beautiful peaceful and divine.in this place this place that no matter how far I roam I always call home 🍁🍂💓.

May be an image of tree, mountain, sky and nature

Published by Nelle

I am interested in writing short stories for my pleasure and my family's but although I have published four family books I will not go down that path again but still want what I write out there so I will see how this goes

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