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