It’s funny the memories I thought carefully tucked away came to life for a few brief moments on a quietRainy day A faint glimmer of red and goldMy brain tries hard to unfold Ears of corn, some yellow, some redIndian corn, my grandad simply said I remember I thought he was...
There’s a cabin on a hillside ridgepast the old weathered wooden bridge The view of a green valley belowWith wildflowers being my show A creek nearby with clear waterTime flies fast, and it doesn’t matter Planting seeds for a feast to reapThe smell of rich dirt your nostrils keep Each day...
Sitting in the crook of a treequietly Hiding, so no one sees me Life is happening all aroundMy happy smile Finally, I found I’m not sure where she’s been hidingI lost myself and stopped confiding Years of hoping and always trustingTime moves too fast; don’t sit rusting climb down and face...
A rope swing hanging from an old oak treeWhen I spied idle dandling there, it inspired a desire in me My dad had hung it there when I was a littlegirlI can still hear his laughter as he watched mybouncy curls I swung so many days with no earthly cares at...
There’s a haunting sound of the train on the tracksConstantly rolling down the line, Then races right back That Chug a chug a soundrolling on thin metal, shaking the ground the train car loaded with the graincausing the echoing of that sad refrain The whistle blows as she goes moving alongshattering...
My granddad told me stories aboutWay back whenOf when to let things go and whenI should defend He taught me things about theplanting of a fieldThe way the garden grows and howit gives its yield The names of all the plants and varieties ofcolorful flowersI still recall when ugly Feelings come...
when I was a young girl, people caused me to cryAs I think back to my childhood, I’m not even sure why What I remember are those words my dad alwaysofferedHe would sit me in his lap, look into my eyes to make sure I heard Molly Bee, whatever happened, let...
I will meet you down the hillpast the old bridgeWhere the Jasmine is in full bloomat the end of the ridge Let’s run together to our sandy bottomcreek bankClimb on our rock, feet in the water together sink Lay back and look up At the cornflower blue skyNeither of us speaks;...
I was sitting in the golf cart with Noah one afternoon, and we were watching Papa and Noah’s dad golfing. Out of the blue, Noah looked over at an area behind the course where he, Katy, and James disappeared to play.They referred to it as their mud Pit. When it would...
