The Farm - Mel McDaniel

January back in fifty-five we rode a greyhound bus through the Georgia midnight

Grandpa was sleeping and the winter sky was clear

We hit a bump and his head jerked back a little and he mumbled something

He woke up smiling but his eyes were bright with tears

He said I dreamed I was back on the farm

Twenty years have passed boy but the memory still reminds me

Wild flowers in the mason jar

He told me those old stories bout that one room cabin in Kentucky

The smell of rain and the feel of the warm earth in his hands

He slowly turned and stared outside his face was mirrored in the window

And his reflections flew across the moonlight land

And he dreamed he was back on the farm

He tilts his head and listens to the early sounds of morning

Wild flowers in a mason jar

An old man and an eight year old boy rolling down that midnight highway

Warm Kentucky mem’ries from a winter Georgia night

I started drifting off and grandpa tucked his coat around me

I think I tried to smile as I slowly closed my eyes

And I dreamed I was with him on the farm

Grandpa i can hear the evening wind out in the tall corn

Wild flowers in a mason jar

Wild flowers in a mason jar and the bus rolled through the night