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

 

The Old Farmer