I shall run away to the land of Home
Of cool water drops and morning misty dew.
Of Chickens underfoot and new honey-do too do.
Of Firewood in rows laid before the silence of winter falls.
Watching for the times of Harvest and Planting
while milking the steady few.
Fading are the memories of older ways
Of inventory games and warehouse ways
Of ministry games and self exalted plays.
Of tiny human kingdoms with playdoh knights
I shall run away to the Land of Home
And write with a little life
for those in the land of the Lost and Lonely.