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A VISIT TO A FARM It appears lonely with the passing years When once it had stood proud and tall, The farm that was at one time a home Now stands deserted, no traces of all
The years when life existed within These four walls, now leaning badly, Recalling many summers on the farm, Some happily remembered, some sadly.
The family’s now gone from the farm, Still, what memories it seems to hold, Bacon and eggs for breakfast, topped With buttermilk biscuits and fries of gold.
Pumping water from the old dug well, Drawn splashing into a black slate sink, Dipped from the barrel with a small tin cup, So clear and cold ‘twas painful to drink.
A pantry just off the kitchen, still Full of treasures she held so dear, A rolling pin still lies on the counter Reminding me of the times spent here.
The creaking of the floor boards that lead To the old crank phone on the wall, Remind me when, as a child, I stood On tiptoes in a chair to make a call.
At evening-time, when chores were done, We’d still find time for frolic and play, An old-fashioned water fight would ensue Then a golden sunset would end the day.
No more hayrides now, or walks to town, Spooked by the cemetery along the way, As I pass the farm such nostalgia returns To the past, another era…another day.
~Twilah 2002~
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