I free-wrote a poem today and called it Home. It brought me back many years with lots of memories of just what home is to me. I am from pigtail braids and dirty jeans, I am from a purple bike with a white banana seat riding circles on gravel dirt neighborhood streets. I am from a guitar strumming neighbor Leaving on a Jet Plane, from fat-tick races and sweaty dirt-streaked faces. I am from Daddys ear splitting whistles to call me back home, from red clay and salamanders hiding under the rocks and leaves. I am from Barbie and Ken adventures with my neighborhood friends, from summer sweet grass and making shapes out of white, puffy clouds. I am from gum stuck to my bunk bed before I go to sleep at night. From walking in Mommys patten-leathers and being the teacher who gets to write on the chalkboard. I am from wonder woman underoos that gave me super strength, from freshly laundered clothes out on the line and the stiff jeans pulled up on my waist. I am from Big K cola and Little Debbie cakes with Daddy watching Star Trek, anchovies on his lap after I pull of his work boots and socks. I am from Come, Come Ye Saints as Man Searched for Happiness, from Hill Cumorah and golden plates, knowing that I am a Child of God and that My Redeemer Lives. I am from spring peepers nightly songs awakening the excitement of spring, from old weathered mountains where our Founders fathered this nation. I am from a Heavenly Father who loves me and I love Him as I stand as a witness in all things and all places and let my little light shine.
Posted on: Sun, 24 Aug 2014 03:00:33 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015