The Way I Remember It
I almost missed the narrow lane;
overgrown with Queen Anne’s
saw grass and untended Forsythia bushes.
the black Wagoneer wallowed through the
deep ruts ,
over small bushes and branches which lay in its
On either side,
instead of the tight, neat fences
remembered so well,
I saw only wildly growing brush,
glance of a rotting , leaning fence post.
I couldn’t see the neat pastures
where the beautiful
Herefords once grazed,
their white faces unbelievably clean,
tails swinging gently to keep the flies from biting,
or hear an
occasional soft low
when a small calf strayed too far from it’s
There, finally, is what is left of “Home”.
The huge ornate
gate, hanging now by one rusty hinge.
The beautiful white picket
rotted and laying on the ground,
just pieces here and
there, not one picket intact.
no longer white,
dingy, rotting , gray shadow of itself.
The porch posts rotted,
letting the roof lean helter-skelter as
I remember snow white sheets
blowing in a gentle breeze,
drying, then put back on the bed at night.
OH! the fresh clean
smell, not from fabric softner,
or detergent, just clean fresh
I look where the garden was always planted,
remember the big
red, juicy tomatoes, the yellow squash,
the bell peppers, the
corn, the green beans.
All the food right there, fresh, ripe ,
ready to enjoy with never a thought of
Is it good for us?
high in cholesterol?
What’s the fiber content?
And never in this
life is there a better aroma
than that of fresh baked bread or
straight from the oven.
Now, if by chance you, a stranger find this lane
drive down it,
you will see only a falling down house
You won’t think of the children
who were born In
this once majestic home.
The loved ones who died here.
You won’t remember the cattle,
The horses, the chickens,
flower or vegetable gardens.
You won’t hear the lonesome cry of
a night hawk,
“Whip-Poor-Will” as they call to each other.
the eerie hoot of the owl
as he sits waiting for an unlucky field
or other small prey.
But, my friend, I see these things,
I hear them, smell them and
For to me, this is Memory Lane,
Back to my roots, my
life as a child and young adult.
The roots from whence I came,
the base from which I grew,
and became what I am today.
You wouldn't even notice the small cemetery,
headstones with red roses blooming around them.
But I do, for
beneath Mother Earth's soft green carpet,
lay my loved
after a life time of hard, back breaking
Work that not only fed their families
money in their pocket,
but work that fed many families
their lives better.
From here I learned that for everything,
there truly is a
I learned to respect nature,
to respect animals. but most
to respect those who loved me and in turn,
show my love
I learned by experience,
by watching the seasons of
earth, and of life,
that there is truly a Deity in His Heaven,
that He cares for those of us
who are willing to do the best we
to make our lives
and the lives of those around
us a happier
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