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Memory's Song
When the trees turn to flame much like fire,
And the evening is crisper and fair,
I can see through my heart's eye the farmhouse
With its chimney smoke wisping the air.
Though the ashes of sorrow long took it,
And a thicket of pines rose instead,
In my mind it still stands as a haven,
And a song still rings clear in my head.
I can see through the clearing the windlass,
And the well bucket tied with a rope
Where she drew from the earth sparkling water
That was poured into clean pails to tote.
There's the turnip green patch by the "big road",
And the car barn that sways neath its weight.
And all over the yard the fresh markings,
Of the brush broom where someone has raked.
But as evening comes slipping in greyly,
And the cold breeze of Autumn's breath blows,
There's a song I hear played on my heartstrings.
It's a song that my memory knows.
To the slap, slapping beat of the barndoor,
Her sweet voice crooning softly and low,
Ore' the salt block and into the bushes,
It seeks and it soothes as it goes.
Many miles have these feet trod since childhood,
But no song have I heard then or now,
Like the tune that the old girl was singing,
As Grandma called homeward the cow.
me again >^..^<
Looks like my barn got italicized!!! No matter, I guess you caught my drift, eh?
kim
>^..^<
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kat on top of her barn roof, shouting, "Bravo, bravo!!" for all to hear.
What a wonderful poem! Sure makes me wish I had a Gradma Cook of my own!
I absolutely LOVED it.
kim
Jessica, What a dear and loving tribute to your grandmother. She must have been very special in your life. You write so well of memories and nostalgia - two of my favorite things! I really enjoyed this poem - I felt as though I were there on the farm. Very nice work indeed. Best wishes, Helen