There was a farm
I used to visit there
The lady of the house
Made the sweetest things
Of crisp golden brown
On a few acres of land
Tended with the loving care
In her scarlet dress
Gather herbs in the garden
For the early morning guest
Memories enough to go around
And more for the rest
Its not there anymore
A long time ago
On the hill above
Looking out
Where it once stood
With the heart's memories
Distressed
You can see
What use to be
The happiness sounds
Aroma's of love
That were prepare
I miss that lady
In the scarlet dress
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4 comments:
Hi, George! Thank you for your kind comments at my site. It's very nice to meet you. I love this poem. I can picture the lady in the scarlet dress and smell the "crisp golden brown" things she cooks, the herbs, etc. Very beautiful details.
You have a beautiful site, too. I'm always impressed by blogs with great design and pictures. I will have fun looking around and reading more. We seem to have a love of nature in common!
Hi Julie, I'm glad you'd liked it. Conjuring images for the reader's mind is kind of a rush on a writers part. But then it's important to be able to do that as the writer anyway.
I sorta gravitate toward people that have an mutual appreciation for all that is nature.
I really new at this blog thing, I'm find it a better way meet some amazing talent like you. To be able to interact with myriad of other poets energies, that I seem thrive on.
I will be looking forward to read more on your wonderful blog also.
Nostalgic images and aromas. I imagine the hills still speak. I've often thought that of the ground under my feet...of all the history it has stored within the layers.
Enjoyed it George!
cheers,
~carol :-)
Thanks Carol, I wrote one a few days ago titled (Rebuilding the Ten Cent Town) that speaks of that very thing, the many layers of past history under our feet. It's at one of the forums you I go to.
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