The last few hills to home

Cry for the story buried deep inside
We carry it with us wherever we go
Try to follow the path you saw Atreyu go
Your feet will find the way
Pull the tiller when the waves turn to flame
And find yourself climbing the last few hills to home
The land is familiar here
It’s always the same
See the field beneath your childhood home
Beyond which lay every adventure you ever yearned for


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(C) Copyright Mark B Williams 2014 Registered & Protected
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