Across clover fields,

emerald petals swaying in the wind.

Through the cedar grove,

piny tendrils slashing the sky of late.

Over aquamarine sea’s,

blue waves licking at the ship.

I’ve neared my final destination,

Home,

In all it’s sweetness.

I’ve fought hard wars,

and lonely nights.

But you kept me driving on,

that’s how you raised me,

so I’ll stay.

I know your gone now,

but still I know your proud.

So,

I sit here,

in this dusty old house.

Twenty three,

years of age.

That’s how old I am.

So,

Through my own cedar grove,

across clover fields,

and aquamarine sea’s

away I go.

Seeking new life,

hope,

and friendship of one so fair.