- Jan 6, 2006
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An Indian artifact collector friend of mine from OK created this little poem, hope you enjoy!
"Arrowhead Dreams"
Some dream of diamonds,
Some dream of gold.
My dreams are always
of rocks made of old.
I wander the creeks,
the rivers and fields,
looking for Clovis or
whatever they yield.
Some rocks are short,
some rocks are long,
some of them are blunts,
but all were made strong.
A Pinetrees a rock not growing from land,
A Dalton's fantastic and it's not a gang.
And a Lostlake isn't lost,
when it's held in my hand.
Arrowhead Dreams
That's what these are.
And I'd rather have them
than any so far!
by Kerry
"Arrowhead Dreams"
Some dream of diamonds,
Some dream of gold.
My dreams are always
of rocks made of old.
I wander the creeks,
the rivers and fields,
looking for Clovis or
whatever they yield.
Some rocks are short,
some rocks are long,
some of them are blunts,
but all were made strong.
A Pinetrees a rock not growing from land,
A Dalton's fantastic and it's not a gang.
And a Lostlake isn't lost,
when it's held in my hand.
Arrowhead Dreams
That's what these are.
And I'd rather have them
than any so far!
by Kerry
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