The Dreamer

She dreams of houses in the hills,
Away from all the city lights—
Of daisy fields and daffodils,
She derives such great delight.
 
By day she makes an honest wage,
Shucking corn beneath the sun—
By night, she dreams of better days,
Of golden fields and olden fun.
 
Oh, how she longs for brighter days...
When the sound of music filled the air;
Where children used to laugh and play,
And they would sing without a care.
 
But that was long before the war...
Before she lost her eldest son;
Things are so much different now.
Life used to be so fun.
 
So, she dreams of greener grasses,
And the smell of sweet molasses—
She dreams of houses in the hills,
Made of honeydew and sassafrases.
 
She finds solace in her memories,
On a perfect little piece of mind—
Providing her a sanctuary,
A shelter from the world, unkind.