Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Meeting Margie

22 July 2009

Her name on his lips brings a smile

and memories, laughter. She still lives

because he remembers her. I come to know

the woman she was through stories told

around the table and the view

through the window overlooking

a field where the milking barn used to be

before she died, before the farm was rented out,

before they sold the cows, and the silo for scrap,

when the boy who would grow to be my husband

called this place home, milked cows, played

and worked in the hay barn and caught fireflies

under her swath of New Jersey sky.

No comments:

George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

Site Hits