Photo by Fachy Marín on Unsplash
Early morning comes to call
The rooster crows his song
That’s when we hear, Grandpa’s, feet fall
Our Farm--comes up with the throng
That is what we did, Goats milk for sale,
On, our little goat farm, in the middle
of nowhere. Milking goats without fail
Helping Grandpa our hands dirty, Goats fiddle
Piece of heaven, involving goats
Grandma and Grandpa always in heart
Never forgotten, feelings in throat
Innocence lost, childhood memories torn apart
Our Goat Farm for me will be
Always and forever a lasting memory
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About the Creator
Anna Thompson
A dream writer, who writes about dreams.
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