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I know a place...

Where, to the north, sandstone hills

Fill the air with red dust

And stain my socks faintly pink

I know a place...

Where, to the south, evergreen forests,

As dark and foreboding as their German sisters,

Hide meadows and lakes

And disguise the wildlife thriving there

I know a place...
Where the morning brings the sound of tractors
And cows, mooing their contentment
Where the perimeter of the town can be walked on foot
In less than an hour
Where the only stretch of sidewalk is in front of the high school
And where most of the population lives outside of town.
This place is the place
That only I can know in the way I do
And where the magic all happens
Away from the lights
Away from the smoke
Away from the nightmare.
This place...
This place is home