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I watched the morning sun struggling to get up,
throwing off the clouds that wrapped around.
I wondered, as I sipped my coffee from my cup,
if that wasn't like the life of this small town.

There's cracks in the sidewalk, weeds coming through.
Windows boarded up, where shops and workers were.
I miss the simple talk, and the busy times we knew.
Now it's cloaked in silence - not a stir.

Wind's a dusty whisper through the day,
and sighs like a lover in the night.
It's a small town begging, "Please don't go away.
Help me find a way to live my life."
A small farm can't make it. The factory has closed.
One by one the small shops disappeared.
Everybody talks about it, but nobody knows
what we can do to start again right here.

The young went to the city, looking for some work.
Others went across the sea to fight.
Old folks don't want pity, though they're feeling hurt.
They want to find a way for Small Town life.

Could we use our gardens to stock a roadside stand ?
Could we make some cider, to give a fancy name ?
Don't we need a shuttle to run the highway span,
for those who can't get out any other way ?

As the wind whispered to me all these things,
it became a hopeful cloudy morning greeting.
Again I heard the songbird and the sweet song it sings.
Ideas I could offer at tonight's Town Meeting.
Songsters and cider, and farm food by the road,
with a shuttle running up and down all day.
It must be painted bright, to bear a cheerful load,
of Small Town folks up and on their way !
A Small Town rising to a BRAND NEW DAY.

( © " Future Folk" Music - Betty J. Curtis )