Totem And Token

by night I cross the bridge of time to a forgotten paradigm where smoke conceals a native camp and memories have left their stamp and on that hill I still can see a peaceful Choctaw family and far below a farmhouse stands surrounded by ancestral lands the ghosts are gathered in that place as time assumes a slower pace and there I find my family and great-grandfather's destiny I gaze from that familiar hill on memories where time stands still and though I know this is a dream I stay to linger by a stream and there I spy an arrowhead a totem like a sign that read we leave behind few things that last like stones and tokens of the past