Down where the peaches grow in abundance,
sits a little place not often mentioned.
Only whispered about in correspondence,
did something that happened capture my attention.

A story of murder and a great sorrow,
and a people still very much in need of healing.
Some took their last breaths still waiting on a tomorrow,
that never came to appease what they died feeling.

Down along the riverbed lays a town,
that since that summer day has never been the same.
Listen close and you can hear the sound,
of time still whispering their names.

Deep down south people wait on the Lord,
believing still that there are better days to look toward.