spring of 2001, touched down in Kansas City,
stepped out of the airport and breathed in the air.
the heart knows its home.
tragedy struck, sadness knocked,
picked up and left, leaving the heart
behind.
throughout the years, through hardships and beers,
the heart’s remained planted
right here in the heart of America.
where everyone waves on old county roads,
and the eye can see for miles and miles
on end.
where Woody once sang of this land as ours.
where night gets so dark you see billions
of stars. where the Flint Hills roll and
the Missouri winds. where an angel is resting
up on a hill, the heart has remained and will
always.
