As he sat down in his rocking chair he began to speak,
With a smile, he invited me to sit and went about his story.
His life as a child at the beginning of a war for Independence,
On a farm in South Carolina, he lived with a father, brothers, sisters.
He went on to tell of adventures in the Summer just before it happened,
A big house, great times with family, working the farm each day was tiring.
He must have been about ninety years old now, the war and those days long gone,
A childhood recalled, swimming in the pond with a friend or two, the night’s moon.
He told me of this war being all around them, nothing would be the same, much change,
Tears in his eyes as he described that time and place where brothers and family died.
He sits in his chair today, many years away from there, he lives in that house today,
He sits in his chair on that porch where as a child he played, he told me of his life.
Keith Garrett
Once as a child, I knew a man much like this. He was the father of my grandmother’s family maid. I would jump out of the car when my dad took her home seeing his white hair shining like a halo. As I came running his broad smile looked like piano keys to me.
Standing before him and into the wrinkled,
kind, leathery face a six year old girl saw a century of time pass before her. In Geeche
Thank you for your thoughts.
On Thu, May 16, 2019 at 9:35 AM keithgarrettpoetry wrote:
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fits and starts he told me about his childhood for on most days that is what he remembered.
I grew up in Georgetown, SC
Beautiful poetry!
thanks for reading
Keith, your writing makes me want to be around my elders (beyond my youthful 63 years), and listen to their experiences.
Those old people have some stories.
On Sun, Jun 2, 2019 at 6:53 PM keithgarrettpoetry wrote:
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