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Poem

Saturday morning, miss those
early days of my youth,
when dear old mother
would fix me breakfast,
can still smell that bacon
cooking in her kitchen.

Remember waking up
to the cool fresh air of
summer, that would be
flowing in through the
open window.

Listening to the sounds
of our birds outside
singing me a song so beautiful,
touching me deeply,
even then, in my youth.

It was so nice to
sit at the table
and listen to mom
talk, miss those days
so much.

Then Shep and I 
would go find us
an adventure to
keep us busy
the rest of the day.

Maybe to Rexall drug,
or a walk down the railroad
tracks, to our little creek, that
he loved to walk through.

On Saturday night it was
to the movies to see two,
and a cartoon to boot,
as Shep waited for me
outside so faithfully.

Those days are past
as mom and Shep have
left me with just memories,

that I will always
cherish to the very
   end.

wrote 10-8-08

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