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Together we would whittle sticks while chewing juicy gum

We would find a place to rest beside a river green and wide

The skies were blue, and tall grass would grow, and brush against my knees

Where willow trees, and dusty trails and nesting squirrels would hide

With tackle box on summer days, we sat in lazy pose

With fishing poles, and cheerful hearts, in willow covered coves

It mattered not,  no lad was I, ...a girl is what he got

And he seemed quite glad, to take my hand, and help me hook the bait

I'd toss it in, against the wind......and sit awhile to wait

It mattered not, if fish were caught, the waiting was our friend

The sun felt warm, his voice could charm, and worries all seemed gone
 

Curiosity of my tender youth, this world a puzzle, vast 

I would ponder things, and pick his brain, with many questions asked

This kind old man, with gentle patience, and a quiet ear to lend

Would tweak his mustache, and kindly hear me, without a word to bend  

While deep in thought, would listen well, and continue with his task

As if my words were meant to hold, and mattered more than gold

He'd  try to find an answer, with his wisdom from the past

With satisfaction we would whittle sticks, yet carving so much more

When shadows fell,  he'd take my hand, the young one in the old 

And head back home, as sun goes down, from lazy river's shore

Those fishing holes, are idle now, too soon the autumn fell

Although I tread the shore alone, I clearly see them all



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7/31/11

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