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
You make me want to start writing poetry again.
Start writing. Thanks for reading.
On Wed, Mar 11, 2020 at 10:25 AM keithgarrettpoetry wrote:
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Keith, this poem reminds me of the stories and life which can be shared from one generation to another.
Thanks so much.
On Wed, Mar 11, 2020 at 7:48 PM keithgarrettpoetry wrote:
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