As the years skip away
No tiny ones on hip and play
My heart goes back to Big D,
Where in youth we were free
To do what our talents allowed
No rough and tumble seeds plowed.
The fineness of the customs of the French
Are carried by the strength of the Scot
Mixed together with Ponchoís blend
Of Latin beauty and friend.
Was it the merchant of Orange Julius
That captured our taste and plus?
Oh there were the opportunities, thatís sure,
For anyone sincere and not too demure
To forge ahead with whatever belief,
Not necessarily held in a sheath,
Ready for the two edges of it,
And someone not prone to sit.
Once in a while, there is an emptiness in me
When Iím wishing once again to see,
The shining buildings reflecting sky
While a country girl wonders how and why,
The city is like a giant who has a pulse,
Weakened not by lack of oxygen and dulse.
Now as I lean over the graves of my ancestors
Hearing tales of their histories and whispers,
Still way far away there is too,
A wave from some friend, Texan and true
Where the strength and immenseness of it all
Holds another sound, separate, that call.