A WALK ON BACK

Come with me, my little one,

And let me show you history.

You see those woods just over there?

That’s where grandma roamed freely.

That chicken coop is where I played

And listened to the whippoorwill.

That little shack is where I lived

And in the night, would feel the chill.

Come, sweetheart, so you can see,

The garden where I used to sing

And where I went to take a pee,

In the outhouse as a youngling.

Do you see that little school?

That’s where grandma learned to read

And was taught the golden rule…

That little church is where I married.

Come and let us pick some flowers,

In the woods, right over there.

It is there I sat for hours

And picked the Trilliums for my hair.

That lady sitting there, so old,

She is my mom from long ago.

I seldom heard her yell or scold

Or say those ugly words, no, no.

My little one, why are you bored?

Can you not see the things I show?

All the places I explored…

Can you not see the heavy snow?

These memories, all mine, not yours,

You cannot see these things in me,

But may this day be in you stored…

So that one day, you too, may see.