Songs and stories eulogize
More glamorous, enchanted lands.
A spot, perhaps, across the world
No one has seen–or understands.
Exotic, fair, where palm trees wave
Wild welcome to the blue lagoon;
Where scented night, a willing slave ,
Pays homage to the tropic moon.
The grasses always greener grow
Beyond our short horizon’s space;
But when spring’ s gentleness shall blow,
That is my time; home is my place.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 19, 1951
