The Old Farmer
The Old Farmer
I write sometimes too much, other times not quite enough
Getting the time, or room in peace to work can be tough
Before I wrote my most viewed piece, Destination Homestead
There was a man who taught me to use an axe in the shed
Before if was the right time to do my Generation Jumping
There was a man , well-read, his stories true, lacking nothing
I remember a guy who could dribble, and throw with either hand
He was there for The Hug, it’s my pleasure knowing this man
The December women, Janette and Marjorie ; both gardener’s
I love. I feel. I write. This too, I shared God Made a Farmer
Today is my birthday and as a present I’d rather share
Read on, if the words pull you, let them take you there
The following lines only begin to capture what I see,
In the fading clips my mind plays of how it used to be
But, if I could, I’d be there now, as it was, maybe inside
In the old north room, from icy wind you could not hide
Or perhaps I’d come down the old stairs just a bit
To smell the bacon, still my favorite I must admit
Settle in here and take this trip, maybe grab a partner
These are my heroes see, each one I call the old farmer
