Kisses

There have been three
Remembered through the years
Sweet and tender
Promises met and unfulfilled.
I shall tell you of one
Perhaps two
But yet not three.

The first was stolen quickly
Soft and sweet
Cold from ice and soda pop
Forbidden
Not allowed
Far too short.

The second I knew
Through most of my life.
Loved her more than she knew
Measured every woman by her
Dreamed of her too much
Her kiss made her sit back
Made me gasp and stare.
Who knew if could be
Oh what a confection
Yet I never knew
Never dreamed she loved me
Till t'was too late.

The third I'll not speak of
It is and was and shall be
The best.
For she is the one
Who holds my hand
As she sleeps.

Come, Sit a Spell

It is a dreary, rainy old day.  I would love to celebrate it by sitting on the porch of a cabin, deep in the hills.  A cabin too far from the road to hear the sound of cars and traffic.

Come, sit with me in an old ladder back rocker, Shaker made and as ancient as the cabin itself.  We'll sit and occasionally talk.  Mostly we'll listen to the dance of raindrops on the tin roof of the porch, the squeak of the rocker or the chain holdin' the porch swing I sit in.

As we look out into the woods our attention will be drawn to the drops of water collectin' on leaves, already glorious from the fall weather.  Today we'll hold our breath an' count the seconds as one drop collects an' finally falls to the ground where is is quickly gone, sipped up by the hungry earth below.

While you sit, almost dozin' from the peacefulness, I'll sneak in an' make a pot of coffee the old time way, boiled in a pot...strong an heady.  We'll sip  hot coffee to warm us up an' maybe we'll even need a couple of them quilts stored carefully in the old trunk back yonder in the dogtrot bedroom to wrap up in an' keep the chill off.

An apple, a sweet peach, a chunk of cheese an' some soda crackers on an ol' plate fill us as we do just nothin' but enjoy an ol' rainy, dreary day in the woods...deep in the hills back home.