Ya'Ll Come Back

In those early years, growing up in the country Walking barefoot, on old gravel roads With neighborhood friends, a dog or two Pulling a wagon of pop bottle gold We were pirates, marauders, searching for treasure In the ditches, as we walked, to the store In simpler days, with much simpler ways Soon, to pass in, to folklore It had an old screen door, with a long squeaky spring Which greeted you as you entered Slapping shut behind you, with a distinctive, CLAP! Bringing the storekeeper front and center While the old man figured, what was already known We each grabbed a little paper sack Just like 49'ers, digging for gold We mined the penny candy rack The thick gray planks, were buckled from age Some held by a single nail A few odd chairs, scattered about Hosts to many an exaggerated tale So many memories from that old porch Telling stories and eating ice cream Counting the cars, on the passing freight trains Each one, hauling a different dream Over a half a century, since those boyhood days But I can still hear that clicketty-clack Still taste the penny candy, see the old man smile Hear him say," Thank you and ya'll come back. by Daniel Turner