when I was a child my world extended, just as far as my mother could see. and sometimes I'd ask if I could go, to the park across the street. I'd sit on the freshly mown lawn and watch the nieghborhood carrying on and watch and listen and look for a telltale sign of that beautiful friend of mine The man with the horse and wagon the one who pa**ed by at noon day I'd run to the horse and wagon soI could hear him say... Apples, peaches, fresh ripe pears new strawberries, watermelon, cherries and a flower for your young girls hair. But apron strings can't hold young wings when the world becomes too small. and a young man grown must stand alone, if he will stand at all. On a cold gray day,an old man wanders to the park across the street. Gone are the trees,not a soul he sees, no birds for him to feed. I turn my back to the wind and stop. I hear the far away clippity clop, of a chestnut mare, in my minds eye, I'm standing right behind....