Longing to go back again, it seems I can see the view
Of a home I see in my mind, mama, remembering Dad and you.
I see the old home place now, woodpile in the back,
Where I’d climb upon it and peek down through the cracks.
A cotton field at the end, with peach trees growing across,
And an apple orchard that us kid’s would pick and toss.
Big old oak trees, way down at the back; tubs on a bench
Where you’d wash the family clothes Mama, then do the rinse.
I can hear the old mocking bird squawking in the tree,
I was so afraid always that she’d come down and peck me.
It was depression years Mama; you’d hang the clothes to dry
Upon the barnyard fence Mama; sometimes I’d see you cry.
Grandma had died not long ago; you still saw her in your heart.
I didn’t understand then that it most broke you all apart.
I’m so glad you had Dad to love and protect you from hurt,
When he’d take you for a walk down the old road that was red dirt.
It was called Muddy Ridge Road, and I can still see the clay,
Us kid’s would sit on the porch and watch for the mailman each day.
He had a shinny old buggy, an old horse pulling him along.
I guess he’d get lonely; we’d sometimes hear him singing songs.
The first time I saw snow, Dad had to lift me up to see outside
I was so amazed that instantly when he put me down; I cried.
The old home was good; fire crackling, ‘Neath the hearth there,
Where you’d put sweet potatoes, Mama, in a pot to bake; I declare.
Dad drove a covered wagon to take us kid’s to our school.
It was a red clay road and if it rained a bus wouldn’t do.
Once you stopped the horses Dad, so us kid’s could climb a hill,
You’d go with us Dad and we’d pick chestnuts; I remember still.
Sometimes though hazel nut right off the bushes. Green
Was the outside hull, you’d have thought it came from Ireland.
The old well down in back beside Mama’s washstand, deep and old.
She’d draw up a bucket of water, and with a dipper we’d drink it cold.
My mind forgets at times, but never my heart; the old home place.
It will forever be etched in my heart, all laced up in pure grace.
I went there once and it was gone from the grounds where we did play.
But in my heart I still can see the roses out front, in my heart today. |
