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I can hear the horses snorting, outside my bedroom window, Even though it comes, from so many years ago; Cotton from the cottonwoods flying through the air, Making whitened dapples on my palomino mare; The hounds are all out baying, it must be dinner time; In my tiny little neighborhood, I was never scared of crime; Family surrounded me, aunts and uncles all around, It was quiet on our little street, no sirens made a sound; My cousins and I would play outlaws, and we’d hide out for a day; Making mighty forts from the fifty tons of hay; It never really changed much, as I grew up through the years, And remembering that it’s gone, always brings me close to tears. (My Parents sold the house I grew up in last year - It still breaks my heart)