Moab

I’m living in my memories and dreams of long ago,
Of the land that filled my childhood, and how I loved it so,
The cottonwoods in springtime, the aspens in the fall,
They held me ever thunderstruck, the beauty of it all,
Perfection unexpected in the crimson cactus rose,
That town in Spanish Valley, where the Colorado flows.

The red cliffs in their majesty, the arches made of stone,
They made me see the Purpose, and I felt it to the bone,
At night beneath the cosmos and the vast eternal plan,
Brought me closer to my Maker than cathedrals made by man,
To me that place was heavenly, as heaven only knows,
That town in Spanish Valley, where the Colorado flows.

I’ve seen so many wonders since the day that I left home,
The Grand Canals of Venice and the glory that was Rome,
I’ve seen the Alps at sunset and the castles on the Rhine,
But none of them can quite compare to that sweet home of mine,
The tempo of the canyons where the pace of living slows,
That town in Spanish Valley, where the Colorado flows.

Oh, I’ve been gone for many years, but do not feel apart,
That place is still inside me for there’s blow sand in my heart,
And in my mind I see it still, and all the folks I knew,
It was the land and people there that taught me what is true,
They gave me needed stamina to face life’s highs and lows,
That town in Spanish Valley, where the Colorado flows.