An Old Man’s Lament

 

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Sits in comfort silence on his porch

at night thinking of the past and

puffing on his pipe he looks across

his pasture land into the gloom

from the moon’s reflection..

 

He rocks his chair as moths flutter

in the candlelight of window sill

and fly to safer places through the

cracks against he casements

flickering light.

 

Remembering  days his youth was full

of play and games were chasing butterflies

through fields and swamps where bull

frogs lay and crickets click their mating

calls, while catfish hide among the weeds

waiting for the baited hook from fishing poles.

 

Summer turns to winters frost that now will

cover corn and grain upon the ground for

gofer feed  so they can burrow deeper to

hide from winters chill and snow.

 

Harvest time is special and the fruits of labor

plenty, and pumpkins large and corn stocks

yellow. while sunflowers face the sun to give

up their seeds for salted taste buds.

 

The old man taps his corn cob pipe against

his weathered palm while sipping up the last

of lemonade in his cup he gives a holler to

old Yeller wagging his tail on the step, a good

old  dog is he  a mans loyal friend.

 

He turns his back and says good night to his

fields of plenty for so many years of toil now

to rest and dream of tomorrows early dawn

of rising sun and roosters crow the fields

await his last plow..

 

© Copyright 2012 by Vincent Moore. All rights reserved


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