Our Town

 ‘Twas a sleepy little town in the mountains,

A way off the beaten track,

Where walkers could amble at leisure,

With never a need to look back.

Main Street never was busy,

The end was always in sight.

I could see the tree covered hillside,

A symbol of vigor and might,

A perfectly natural setting for the

Little white church with its steeple,

Pointing upward to the Maker,

A beacon of hope to its people.

I saw a fine old gentleman,

Whose years were well passed their prime.

He shuffled over the crosswalk,

And traffic stopped for a time.

This is the way in our town,

An easy, relaxing pace.

I’ll sit back and enjoy,

Let the others take on the race.

For I am growing older,

Priorities have changed for me.

It’s not how much I gather,

But the joy in what I see.