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Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

 

There are secret tunes of wind through leaves

as shadows dance in dappled rhythm

 to the lilting songs of another Virginia summer.

 

Summer ShadowsValley Morn

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27 Year Old Latch

There is a certain sweet familiarity

about rusty old friends

who wobble and groan

and creak and moan

like me.

 

 

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Favorite Country Fence

I made another stop to look around

and there were pictures to be found

of country charm, forgotten lanes,

 mountain vistas in nature’s frames,

wild flowers and abandoned fences,

and gates on rusted hinges.

Green Mtn View

Rusty Charm

 

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I have just returned from a trip down “memory lane” with my friend, Kate of CoffeeKatBlog who wrote Things About My Youth.

We sort of grew up during the same era and many of Kate’s memories are mine.

Her funny, delightful post reminded me of a poem I wrote a long time ago about a girl in a photograph.

Who is that girl in the photograph,

the one with the spark of youth

dressed for a prom in a silken gown

with a faraway look of hope?

Who is that girl in the photograph,

the one with the faraway dream,

dressed in her best to celebrate?

I think she may have been me.

I remember that dress in the photograph

and the boy who was just as scared,

that soft starry night of the senior prom,

I remember the night clear and fair.

But who is that girl in the photograph?

She seems someone else I once knew,

the child I was, growing up and out

in a world that was changing too.

And onward time marched in quick-step

When a different boy called her wife

while the glowing girl in the photograph

stayed young and full of life.

The seasons passed and the years ticked on

while the picture stayed the same,

through challenges of work and home

and a son making Mom her name.

Running and running the years went by.

Now a grandma looks to the past

at an image of hope for an unknown life –

the young girl in the photograph.

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Barn n Slope

A Virginia Barn in the Shenandoah Valley

There is a big white barn I can see from home

but can never get quite the right angle

or the trees are in leaf

and the barn disappears

lost and entwined in a tangle.

Then winter clears the brush and trees,

continuing each season’s story,

and there it is, the big white barn,

revealed in a world of faded glory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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20160215_180533

A chalk drawing of a little girl

always hung in a living room space.

She’s all grown up now of course,

but it still holds an honored place.

The little girl was me before

 and hangs again on our living room wall,

a reminder of who I once was growing up

and who I am still, after all.

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I am saving the crayon colors of summer

for the show is bound to end soon

in favor of Fall’s great performers

en route with a harvest moon.

Zinnias + (640x480)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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