To Walk There Again
To Walk There Again
To think the grass I step in springs from where I turned somersaults so long ago,
The small crooked house I bounced through no longer stands here though,
I can still see Grandma in her faded apron at the creaky screen door,
Telling us kids, "Don't you run in and out of this house today anymore!"
Dinner simmered on the old wood stove, its aroma floating in the summer air,
Intertwining with the sweet scent of the lilac bushes growing wildly there,
Cousins running and squealing, freer than we would ever be again,
Not realizing the precious moments we were sharing together then,
Grown up voices and laughter coming from the screened in front porch,
As the women folk kept close watch so dinner wouldn't scorch,
I can almost smell Grandpa's pipe smoke drifting to the sky above,
And see his toothless grin and ice blue eyes twinkling with his love,
I close my eyes, remembering where the water bucket would have been,
And the feeling of cold dippered well water dribbling down my chin,
The old barn is gone too, but not the memory of the simple joy of gathering fresh laid eggs,
And crawling into the loft without worry if the straw would scratch our legs,
At the end of the day, comes the soft, warm and carefree summer nights,
With laughing children roving through damp grass following the fireflies' random flight,
I wander in quiet solitude over the ground where I spent so much of my childhood,
Hearing and seeing vivid memories, wishing one more day there if I could; oh, if I only could.
Copyright © Zella Ruleford | Year Posted 2020
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