Mobile In Alabama

Those were such happy days, for I had lately been deeded a farm, My aunt and uncle were retiring, so tillage had lost its charm. Since they were childless, and to a retirement community bound, It seemed I was headed to Alabama, and an absence of city sounds! As I worked remotely on a computer, my job wouldn't be an issue, So I seized the opportunity, for in life such chances may be few. I had many happy memories, of childhood summers at their farm; And they were fond relatives, and blooms prefer where it's warm. Although I was no farmer, I preferred quiet places near wildlife, Like an owl sitting in the silver moonlight, for all of its life! After packing up in New York City, I hit the southern highways; And the drive was calm and peaceful, like lush parks on Sundays. I made the trip in a day and a half, stopping for meals and rest; And driving slowly was preferable, as the scenery was the best! It seemed entirely fitting, when at last I read the welcome sign. For it said, "Welcome to Sweet Home Alabama," riant in summershine. When I finally reached my new home, it was just as I remembered, With grassy hills, trees, pond and orchards, frogs and redbirds. Near the farmhouse stood a small cottage, which sat upon a hill, A cottage which was pretty, the area covered in wildflowers still. I'd slept here in long ago summers, as I'd always loved the place; And while relatives slept nearby, I'd reveled in my own tiny space. In a fit of sweet nostalgia, I decided to sleep there once again, It would be easier to get ready, and there was no need to strain. I unpacked, dusted and had dinner, enjoying views of the meadow; And the scenic hills beyond, as the skies above became mellow! Finally the stars began to come out, along with a quarter moon; And I'd begun to feel drowsy, as I had been driving since noon. Soon I lay in my snug bed, listening to a far off screech owl; And Sandman sprinkled stardust, as night critters began to prowl. Because my dreams were very pleasant, I awoke to sunshine smiles, Sure a happier person couldn't be found, within a hundred miles! Pink dawn poured in the windows, as I made toast eggs and coffee, From among the bagged groceries, that I had brought along with me. Since I hadn't yet seen the morning views, I was eager to get out; But when I finally did just that, my senses I had cause to doubt! Because my hilltop had become Montmartre, that large hill of Paris. The night before I'd dreamed it all, and it came from latent wish! Though I was in a state of shock, the pleasure could not be denied, For I had a fine view of the Eiffel Tower, the city of Paris' pride. People walked past me to and fro, while gaily conversing in French; And my farm seemed quite gone, in another reality wholly entrenched. I gaily spent the day sightseeing, and even visited the Eiffel Tower, As a pretty purple martin, sings his dawnsong from a strange bower! I returned home long before sunset, afraid my cottage would leave me; And after dinner when I looked outside, my farm was back magically. Fatigued from the day's exertions, I greeted the Sandman once more, Wondering if he'd host another trip, without ever opening the door! Like the sunshine comes to visit, with at no time a formal entry; And leaves by the very same method, like the spirit roaming free. At dawn I saw the house had moved again, as if upon a magic carpet; And it set me to marvelling, as views of the Swiss Alps were perfect! After breakfast I rushed outside, and strolled down the mountainside, Trailed by blue skies and birdsong, and the pleasures were magnified. I relished a day of sightseeing, with a visit to the local village; And I realized how lucky I was, for free world travel is a priviledge! So I decided to manage this fine gift, in responsible and feasible ways, By sleeping in the farmhouse weeknights, and travelling on my off days. For these days I had a farm to keep up, and I had a living to make; But once I found that vital balance, I thrilled in each weekend escape. I visited the Italian Riviera, Niagara Falls and Mount Kilimanjaro, Dubai, Bora Bora, and India, seeing the world from my cottage window! I've wandered the streets of Moscow, and I toured London's East End, Like the ever wandering birds, singing raptures of views without end. Every weekend night I am dreaming, and I'm waiting for the orange sun; And always I am visited by Sandman, and I dream what soon will come. And as beggars can't be choosers, I must take whatever dream I can, Because exactly as it's always been, I am at the mercy of the Sandman!