That old wooden chair was his favorite spot to
be
Sitting in the sunshine in the warmth of
the day
Looking out across the land he loved so
much
It stirred up memories that carried him
away
He always took pride in those big cornfields
He
plowed from sun up to sun down
There’s nothing left but underbrush now
Nary a stalk of corn planted in the ground
Those fields made good corn back in the
day
He hauled many a load to the gristmill
Even if it took him all day in that wagon
On an old gutted out road, most of it
uphill
He always tried to share his bounty with
others
Everyone wasn’t fortunate to have a good
year
Even the stalks made for good fodder
That livestock sure did make it disappear
There was always plenty of planting going
on
Whether it be corn or gardens growing so
kind
Had to eat come summer or winter
Everything was canned, nothing was left
behind
Even before the harvest had time to come
in
He thought about winter and what it would
bring
He had to keep the home fires burning, or
else
If the weather got to bad and firewood got
lean
He’d been all over those mountains and
hills
Cutting and snaking out wood, it was the
only way
That old mule knew how to work hard
He sure could pull that sled on any given
day
One can never have enough wood to burn
In the winter when the sun sets low in the
sky
Back when he was young and strong
Work was a pleasure, he could never deny
He could still hear those cherished words
Come on home now, it’s suppertime
He’d grab a dipper of cold, spring water
A sure cure for a hot thirst every time
Sitting on the porch in that old wooden
chair
With his sweetheart, wife and best friend
Meant more to him than anything in the
world
Oh how he yearned to do it all over again
There’s that pretty little grove of apple
trees
Been there many a year, and so content
She helped to plant them, they brought a
smile
Even with their trunks so bowed and bent
Her pretty flowers still bloomed in the
spring
He always told her she had a green thumb
More beauty than an old man’s heart could
hold
He’d soon see her, she was waiting for him
to come
Awe, it sometimes brought tears knowing
Time and circumstance had left him behind
Yearning for the things he’d lost and
loved
Made him feel like he wasn’t worth a dime
He knew his life’s work was over and done
Remembering those bygone days brought a
smile
They sure knew how to lift an old man’s
spirits
From the warmth of that chair, if only for
a while
Today the old house is so empty and quiet
Nary a sound but the mantle clock’s tick
Plenty of reminders in every nook and
crack
Over in the corner is that little walking
stick
The sun still shines on that little window
seat
The little birds sing but there’s no one
to hear
So much nostalgia and loneliness left
behind
In the heart of that old wooden chair
© Susie Swanson, 2018
Susie, I love reading your poems, they tell us a story. They make me cry some times. I don't think any of us want to be left behind. It's too sad without of loved ones. I think people all want to be loved and remembered. You honor your parents with your poetry. I have my father's little blue glider chair he had in his bedroom. It means so much to me. Blessings to you, love you, xoxo, Susie
ReplyDeleteI can picture this. You write beautifully. I remember clocks that tick and chime on the hour!
ReplyDeleteYou paint such wonderful pictures with your words, Susie. And those pictures tell great stories.
ReplyDelete