“The Ballad of Beautiful Words”

Sometimes I recall,
The things that I did,
Back in my boyhood,
When I was a Kid
When I wrote my ballad,
Of beautiful words.
Of rainbows and roses,
And sweet singing birds.
Of wildflowers that grew,
By a cool babbling brook,
Of pathways I knew,
Like a page in a book.
I wrote of the glory,
Of natural things,
Like wild geese at sundown,
With gold on their wings.


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