Story Institute Imagine Your Stories Again…

I…
Often wonder…
About the path…
My life has taken…
The Beale Street we called home…
Was quite, secure, and middle class…
Loud, motor, not steam boats covered…
The rocky, slow moving river where we fished and played..
Driving here to just about anywhere was the norm…
While flying was left to later, family days, and…
The dreams to reach the encouraged heights…
Maintaining used swampland instead of…
Building magnificent, new kingdoms…
We pause, centered in melodies…
In a country stepping toward…
Being successfully read…
And, infinitly bound…
Together.

By: John E. Murray, III