I want to visit the old abandoned farm,

stand where my grandfather stood

when he viewed the surrounding hills through optimistic blue eyes.

I want to feel his first taste of freedom in a new land,

breathe the sweet aroma of fresh-cut hay.

I want to know he found peace

with his hard work, simple life, honesty and integrity.

Sometimes you have to look back before you can move forward . . .

By J.W. Spain