June K. Vargo
I hear the shrillness in he soundless scream.
I see the brilliance in the sunless beam.
I know that things are not what they seem.
There is not repartee in my mindless dream.
My dream of a land so fresh so new.
My dream of a land laden with morning dew.
My dream of a land that belongs to me .. and to you.
In this adventure so fresh so new.
I hear the footsteps as we walk the walk less mile.