Written for all that exists within a childhood home - the memories, the experiences, the love. Picture above of the kids of Cambay who made front lawns a place to play. Picture below the kids of Cambay today.
The old home
Where we came from
The front lawn
Leaves, snow, red-light, green-light, hide and seek
Dear Lord, don’t let me wake from this sleep
The old home
All the folks are there
For the moment, they are still out in the back
Around the side, in the den, in their favorite chair
Memories that - locked away - I will always keep
Don’t let me wake, dear Lord, from this sleep
The old home
Voices call us from down the hall,
Call us for dinner; call us out of hiding
Call us back to a family that once and forever cared
The kind of care that the truth could never really dare
But these memories - like old molasses - drip, ooze and seep
Dear Lord, don’t let me wake from this sleep
Don’t wake me to a world where voices stop their call
When careless eyes don’t show any feeling at all
Where family members pass to old age and beyond
Where magic elves in the front yard lose their magic wand
Where hide-and-seek leaves us lost in a grownup confusion
Where we’re left with despair, denial and delusion
Let me sleep for now – with the folks in the old home of yesterday
That’s the haven where I wish to– in childlike eyes - forever stay
The old home
Where we came from
The front lawn
Leaves, snow, red-light, green-light, hide and seek
Dear Lord, don't let me wake from this sleep
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