Stories My Grandmother Told Me

My grandmother used to read to me, storybooks under a tree
Every Saturday, when wild ducks flew away with the breeze
Upon the Shiloh Hills range, is where I think it used to grow
Green, yellow, and red as far as eyes could see, in an overflow
I still remember, Stories My Mother Told Me, by Remi Adedeji
It was my favorite, back in the years when I was young and free

My grandmother used to read to me, storybooks under a tree
And I think this is a habit from which I will never ever be free
For the adventures are so vivid, when leaves play soundtracks
To the wild Tales Of The Lord Of The Rings, and Roses and Jacks
And the serenity of nature is captured inside of my every page
A good story, and some liquor, and with the wind, I have no age

My grandmother used to read to me, storybooks under a tree
And there, I've spent many delicious hours of life, when time flee
The freedom of my dreams, and imagination riding a very old tale
The emotional drama of a mighty pen, that leads a man upon a trail
I think this's the place I'll like to be, till forever catches up with me
And my body is burnt with my books and thrown into the deep sea

My grandmother used to read to me, storybooks under a tree
So in the wildest of fairy-tales, the blackest of nightmares, I believe
For in black and white, I have seen worlds built up and destroyed
Heard about men and women, forever trapped in the coldest void
I too will read to my children under a tree, until they fall asleep
For this is a family tradition, generations after me should keep

My grandmother used to read to me, storybooks under a tree
And it has affected my existence greatly, like a prison cell key
And slowly memories are alive in me again, rushing like the rain
I remember her gentle coarse voice, telling me stories with pain
That it was education that gave us beautiful moments like this
And I too will someday learn to read, if I went to school for practice.

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