I wrote this when I was 14.
White picket fences all around
Feeling so safe in this peaceful town
I see all the blue shutters and all the blue doors
As I walk down the lanes of Oakwood and Moores
I stop to talk to the Grandmother who sits on her deck
(That’s Mrs. LaMore, she’s from Quebec)
She gets her name from her grandmotherly fashion,
Her home is always open; she has such a people passion
As I walk on I hear the kids singing
It’s time to go home, it’s turning to evening
I enter my house with such satisfaction
For the place that I live and it’s small-town attraction.
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