Red Iron Memories

The grass is growing wild, the trees are gnarled and old,
The birds are singing in the trees, a story to be told.
Old Red Iron lake's a picture, the ripples, like silver look,
The boats, the breeze, the sea gulls, entice one to write a book.

Chief Red Iron lived here for many years,
There is history that hasn't been told,
Happiness, heartache, love and tears,
He was a man both brave and bold.

I hear the sound of horses hoofs, coming 'round the bend,
It is surely living proof, a message I must send.
God gave this place for all to share, no matter what the breed.
We must all learn to give and care and understand another's need.

Give of yourself to others,
Think not of mine, but thine,
Let us all live like brothers,
Until the end of time.

©Eileen Besse

This poem appeared in the publication Poetry's Elite, The Best Poet's of 2000, ISBN: 1-58235-901-6