Sunday Drive Back Home



I drove back to our old home place today

with the lonesome ache of memories for company.

Now, I stand by a thistle strewn cow pasture

letting the dry summer wind take away my tears.



The black walnut tree used to spread to forever

shading the back of the three-porched house.

Laughter and tears echoed down the hall

and into the quiet parlor of my childhood.



Here, four children grew and blossomed

like the wild roses running over the meadow.

And, Mama softly hummed songs of faith

while she cooked our evening meals.



See how a long line of blacktop snakes its way

across our meadow and into the far horizon.

The roses and the walnut tree are gone.

Not even a stump is left standing.



Nothing remains but two red rock chimneys

sad guardians of my childhood

pointing into a grey Georgia sky.