The old home place is tatered and torn ..
from vacent neglect since the old ones
have passed and gone ..

So many memories
that old farm house holds ..
Of once a strong family that
has passed on and grown old ..

Marks from years of wear,
on the steps to the porch floor ..
And an old borad bench swing,
with rusted held chians that, swings no more ..

I can almost hear the laughter
of my family on an afternoon Sunday..
And smell the southern fried meal,
my nother would work hard
that day and pray ..

Our yard was full of children
running and laughing,
seemed it would always be that way

.. The elders sat on the front porch
and talked of things that passed.
AND Talked of strenght and of things
that should and didn't last..

And we played and laughed
like if like tomorrow
would never come..
Not knowing that someday soon
we would be the elder ones..

Now with hair of silver
I have my past to hold ..
My memories are such a treasure
and I bet yours are too,
may you never let
them become cold..

Pass them on to your youth
let your story be told ..
For our past is linked
to our futures days ..

I think the Great Spirit just might
have planned it that way..
(SUNDOWN)
© 2002 R.BRENT
Used with permission

May the Lord Bless you and keep you safe in His arms!

Thank you for visiting with me!
Joan



   

 

   

7-28-2011
page made by Joan