I used to live in Harmony,
Located just a little ways off the road
In a tiny place in the great southwest.
Living in Harmony was not for all,
Unless you count the ones who couldn’t sing,
Or for those who closed their eyes
And ignored the cruel world
And claimed it was for the best.
Harmony was divided up in several parts,
To keep our voices from going wrong,
And we would, of course, often sound hoarse
When we got lost and a little off key.
Yet we knew a song was within our hearts,
And our town was the perfect place to be.
Living in perfect harmony
Required commitment, love, and laughter
But we did our best
To keep our town growing strong.
But it finally dwindled away.
A ghost town without a song.
If you should look for a peaceful place,
Hidden by the sands of time.
Sing to the wind the coyote’s songs,
He knows which ones are mine.
Others will join and sing to the moon,
Blending notes that have to be.
The coyotes songs will all be good
As we sing in harmony.
May 3, 2017

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