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Personal Note:

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Poem

I close my eyes and recall yesterdays beautiful summers 
barbecues from charcoal bricks and slow basted meats 
aromas that lingered long after the first sizzle of rare 
Mother arriving with a platter of raw hotdogs and steaks
dad fanning the fire with an old tin top.   Fumigated waves 
of thick gray smoke filling the air, we waited hungerly  . 
Later stuffed as little piglets we would gather round 
the wooden picnic table, and tell stories and jokes.  
The sun would slowly begin to descend and the air 
would gently cool. We'd all go inside for hot tea 
and a little T.V. sitcom. 
How I miss the old days, wish I could bring them back 
even for just one day,. so I could smell the barbecue
and drink mother's sugary strawberry Kool aid, 
one more time.

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