Spent our summers as kids
on Grandpa and Grandma\'s farm,
always something to do after chores,
we learned to ride horses bareback
and enjoyed racing them on a track.
An old weathered barn stood on a hill,
for years it leaned to the left,
a fun place to play hide and seek,
it was dark and dank and held some cats,
they were the mouser acrobats.
On Sundays we all went to church,
feeling squeaky clean with bright smiles,
carried Bibles to Sunday School
and listened to the teacher carefully,
behaving our best quite dutifully.
Grandma\'s cooking was the best,
she made all her food from scratch,
baking breads, pies and cakes,
delicious roasts for all to eat,
always followed by a surprise treat.
The years have passed and we
are all grown up and times have changed,
the old weathered barn is no more,
it fell down on a stormy night,
no longer a shelter on its hilly site.
Grandma and Grandpa lived long lives,
both are buried on the farm they loved,
not far from the farmhouse near the willow,
each time we visit the farm we sit a while
on a bench nearby and visit with a smile.