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.
-
Author:
Summersounds68 (
Offline) - Published: February 28th, 2024 10:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- User favorite of this poem: Bella Shepard.
Offline)
Comments3
Always enjoy receiving feedback on my poems.
~ Sonia
Beautiful childhood memories of Grandpa and Grandma, told insuch a warm and loving way. The barn pic reminds me so much of a weathered barn not far from where I live. Good write my friend!
Bella, thank you for your kind words.
~ Sonia
A really like old weathered stuff (I really aught to, if the advice to love one's self is to have any meaning at all!)
A poem rich in nostalgia which I very much enjoyed.
Doggerel Dave, glad you like my nostalgic poem.
~ Sonia
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