Lynne

It's quiet here now, fifty years of need, smooth as her stone, can still see the grave, where praise be, i hope i'll be saved, Ohio under snow, i'm back in Tennessee, the year of the blow, give me the State, you can love for free, except for holidays, geese with barren tones, set my hair to freeze, white on my shoulder, they honk on their way, late for the season, I'm just the same, in the blue dawn, stripped like the trees, between here and home, the old amber need.