It was by chance or pure circumstance,
that the cards I drew, lured me far out West.
An Island hop, a drifting castaway,
with fondest memories, that linger to this day.
Where Family, Friends, who all grew old:
over time most died, that I was told.
Faint Northern Lights, where Paul Bunyan swings,
I’ll take back from Time, my Boyhood dreams.
But soon, my journey will be near complete,
when I feel the soft Earth, beneath my feet.
In mind’s eye, I now clearly know,
the place I once left – I still called, Home.
So, bury me High within the Hills,
with the purple lilacs and the daffodils.
Where Loons wail, and sighing Willows weep,
where Hiawatha, sings me fast asleep.
©Copyright June 2010 by Jim Sularz