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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required ~ Once upon a long ago... Three kids were raised on my family's farm I am the middle child who spent more time working in the fields with Dad, my Galahad, for I found household chores such a bore. Outside, in the fresh air, me and mon pere worked side by side, talking about the future. We pruned row after row of tomato plants, fed chickens that were later killed, one by one but when their blood was spilled, I was sick Not a bite of them could I take while my heart ached for the baby chicks I had raised. To this day, I don't eat a lot of eggs. How many times did I fall from the hay loft... Quite oft, and from the swing in the tree Another treasured childhood memory. Beneath it I cried and then dried my tears, overcoming fears, and through the years, Dad kept replacing the rope swing in the tree, of the barnyard meadow, just for me. The tree's still there on my family's land I painted it last Autumn when I visited the farm. The fields are no longer tended and plowed Rows are fallow on what was once hallowed ground to me. There are no kids playing there no longer a rope swing. Everything is changed, rearranged to suit the needs of the new owners who kindly understood when I asked if I could paint the old rusty-roofed barn of my childhood where I once rode my horse, and of course played hide and seek with my sister and brother, once upon a long ago ~
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