I don’t remember ever uttering
The words I’m bored or any other such thing
Having to do with a lack of entertainment for the day
I had too many rocks and trees around in which to play
The voices of my siblings as we awoke on summer mornings
Was s a soothing, happy sound because laughter was our thing
Lined up on two rows of benches,
Sitting Close, no extra inches
We ate our breakfast silently and listened to my dad
Always before he left for work, his warning, don’t be bad
We watched him in his striped overalls
as they went through the door, I now recall
The signal to get outside and play
Keep busy and out of our mama’s way
We spent so many hours roaming the creeks on our hillside
Until we heard her voice call lunch, then we ran back inside
It wasn’t much, a sandwich, some fruit, or a piece of cornbread
Mama did her magic act and made sure we all were fed
Sometimes we would go out and sit under our old willow tree
The one whose branches hung so low, our hideout no one could see
No the words I’m bored were never said, not on our hillside
today’s children don’t realize outside is the actual ride
A place to go and energize, it didn’t cost a cent
Our country hillside is the place as youths we always went