Memories

The little lanes of Ireland
Go wondering through my heart,
winding ahead on my way to the fair
with the pony and jaunting cart.
The coming home in the twilight
With the world at rest and still,
Young and old softly singing
as we travel over each hill.
Stars are bright in the heavens
Even the moon shines down
lighting the way for the ponies
As they pass through each quiet town.

by Marie Bowerman Taylor

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