The Farm

I can still remember
Though I was very small
Visiting my relatives
Out in Arkansas
Swinging on the sand bags
Drinking from a well
Climbing in the Hayloft
How new mown hay smells

Home baked bread and fresh butter
With milk straight from the cow
Watching the sun climb high
Then fall behind the hills

I’d get up with the chickens
To see the glow of dawn
The memory’s made that summer
I’ll cherish my life long

Comments: 10

Kimberly Ripley Jul 22, 2007, 10:41pm UTC

This reminds me of time spent at my grandparent's when I was a child. Thanks for the nice reminder and beautiful poem!

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Jules who is loving life again Jul 23, 2007, 12:32am UTC

so glad it brought back memory's I want to do things like that...that's the best complement I can get!

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Kasey Klein Jul 23, 2007, 4:11am UTC

. . . watching the corn grow, spouts from the ground; one day, I was like a grasshopper under its shadow.

Nice Poem, Julia. I lived in New Jersey; my grandparent's farm was in Ohio. We -- human beings -- are so different on the surface; yet, our sameness goes to the bone.

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