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Tags: musing

Until I was twelve the world was green and little red cars had bench seats. Tea was strained through leaves and mom prayed on her knee's. Now the world is full of hate and little red cars have bucket seats. Tea comes in a can, but mom still prays on her knee's. And dad has gone to the promise land.

Now I wear stripes on my sleeve in Afghanistan and people hate. Hate because of what side of the aisle one sits on. But no one thanks the Good Lord or respects the flag. But mom still prays on her knee's and dad in now but a stone in a field.   

Where has the green gone? Now debit cards are the way, and  "Old Dixie" is but memories. As statutes are torn down.      


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