Everytime I would ask her to marry she would always say no. At her reply she would notice the relief written all over my face. She was wise enough to simply let me go. Said I should have lived, 150 years ago. Talking with a friend of mine today from Allentown. Three feet of snow had given him a case of cabin fever. He said year to year things here are great. We concluded we were born, 150 years too late. And our forefathers stole a life so wonderful and new, from a people who had one old, sacred and true. They have made life so easy we no more appreciate, I'm living in their lies, 150 years too late. I live way back in the mountains in the land of Cherokee. Four distinct seasons to live with and rolling mystery. A sense of home a most familair grace, I can dream even if, it's 150 years too late.
