Users Who Spiked
She's only 6 or 7 maybe 8. I'm really not sure
We have been neighbors for a while now
I think of her every time I travel this dirt road.
We watch over each other like neighbors do
It's more of a trail of 2 ruts, just wide enough
For a car or small truck, I'm sure a buggy and
A team made it just fine. The hay fields are full
Of wild flowers, yellow, white and Burgundy.
The smell of fresh cut hay fills my memory
The tack room, the barn, the early morning
Chill in the air. My grandfather would fill a coffee
Cup just like his with milk and a splash of coffee
Off to the barn we would go, he always made me
Feel as big as him.
The colors of flowers now go dark, replaced with
Browns and greens of a thick forest. The ruts become
Deeper the smell of the air becomes cooler.
I know she had a barn, I know there were daffodils
Growing in the yard, every spring on time never late
I try to imagine her house made of logs so long ago
Windows on each side, a porch with a rocking chair
Facing the yard, facing the daffodils.
A trail of white smoke, Rolling out of the chimney.
Pork sausage maybe bacon
Eggs from the yard, homemade bread, butter from the cow
In the barn. She drank her milk with a splash of coffee
In a cup just like his
Her house is long gone, I heard a tornado
Pushed it into the woods back in the early 70s
Her mother and father are buried in a cemetery
Near town. Her brother tried to find her but it was too
Long ago, she was lost to the woods. All that stands is
A bald eagle circles the farm, screeching out a cry
I know he has found her, I know he watches over her
as neighbors do. She is ok not alone as she peers out of the woods
She sings and plays as she runs through the daffodils
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