THEY LIVED THE DREAM
Let me tell you of a story,
A simple wee tale, yet true
And listen to this mem'ry
As told to you by this muse
So come, walk softly beside me,
My friend, and we will stroll along
Inside the dream of one great man
And of my beloved, little son John
When my sweet little Johnny
Was but a wee lad of four
He always removed his shirt
Whenever he went outside the door
He never could quite explain
With words just why this was
And whenever he was asked why,
He replied 'It's Just Because.'
Now he knew that blazing old sun
Would give him a golden tan
And he wanted so, to be dark,
Just like his little friend
They only knew they were friends
They knew naught of hate
But they put a smile on that old man's face
Standing there at heavens gate
Childhood innocence, the epitome
Of a dream remembered, a dream,
Of our beloved departed friend
Dr. Martin Luther King
This is a true story. And John, as an adult, remembers it well.
By Morning Song
© 2008 Morning Song
(All rights reserved)
| |