From yesterday is where I come from, my life is with a wife and child,

Seeking a new life and possibly a different place of settling down.

We are pioneers of the early nineteenth century traveling across

The hot desert where there is much hardship, sickness, and hunger,

There’s a chance I must take as my son is very sick with fever this day.

I say goodbye to all in our wagon train for now as I say perhaps there

Over the hill, I will find help, faith walks with me as I begin my quest,

Over the hill to a different world as I pass over the top of the ridge.

Am I dreaming as these impossible things appear before my tired eyes,

The wagon train is gone, vanished into the air, this can not be.

I see traveling machines, music, and that which can not possibly exist

People so different, I’m looked at so strangely as I tell of my plight.

My son is sick I say, he’s over that hill, a kind woman she was,

A bottle, something inside, these will make him better I’m told.

I must go now, I run for the hill, I climb as this world is not mine,

At the top I now see again my world and wagon train, I look back,

The world I walked into is now gone, only desert I left behind, my son does not die.

Keith Garrett


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