There's a place where I go
when this old world gets to be too much.
A place where memories roam;
A warm and happy place from my childhood.
I can close my eyes and the trip takes seconds.
I am there, in the magic meadow,
where we played as children.



I smell the fresh cut hay and hear the laughter of children.
I see my grandfather working and sweating,
as he always did.
I hear my grandmother call from the porch
to tell us it's time for lunch,
the lunch table always being set with enough food to feed the town.
And oh, the smells from that kitchen.
She was a great cook.


To roll in the hay and jump in the piles,
and to relive a little of my childhood.
Oh, the memories. I was given a wonderful life,
full of memories and love.


By Brier (Brierhillbarbara@aol.com)


 

 


 

 



Watch these pages for more poems by Brier.
In the meantime, click the links below for
poems and stories by our other authors.


Songs Unsung

Write To A Picture

Lost At Sea

Cheyenne Frontier Days

Sue At Sue's Zoo

Snow Melt

Artist's Profile

Elgin

Communicating

Icy Tracks




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