Where do I go to find myself? Sitting here, must be the shell of me, I'd rather be skipping along a path, That runs along a bubbling brook and meanders beyond an old oak tree.
Where do I go to find myself? Or is this just my embodied soul? For the real me would be spending time, Picking blueberries and eating them, Then plopping some in a bowl. Where do I go to find myself? Where have I truly gone? Oh! look! it's me, down there yonder, Where the grandchildren are at play. The ol' G'ma laughing and singing, With hair full of streaks of gray! Kind Regards - K .