Syracuse

White blankets falling from the sky
Central New York is hardly paradise
Syracuse is not the center of the world
My childhood was filled with joy

Walking through a field laboring through the snow
A brown dog, a black one, the Cicero Swamp
Down by the rocks, The Salmon Reservoir
Three Small Children, a Caring father
Weekend trips Hunting and Fishing

Home was a middle class house
Working class roots
Raised by a mother that taught us respect
For ourselves and others.





© 1998, William R. Craft, Jr. All Rights Reserved
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