Lingering memories of horses
And cowboys that ride upon knees,
Tall tales not found in any book of stories.
Lawrence Welk’s champagne bubbles on Sunday eves,
Buck Owens on Hee-Haw sings country melodies.
Walter Cronkite drones on the nightly news,
About crime rates, recession, and things abstruse.
Upon the couch you both listen in awe,
While I am happy just lying by grandma and grandpa.
My head on her lap feet lay upon yours,
Silently you doze off and begin to snore.
Ponies and cows, milking and feed,
A walk though the fields while chewing on weeds.
A fishing pole set, worm wiggling upon hook,
While the bobber sits floating atop of a brook.
“Grandpa, Watch me, look I can swim,”
I take a deep breath and then I dive in.
Strong hands wielding an axe,
Peaceful countryside once quiet, now echoes back
The rap of the resounding crack.
A drive to the orchard, cardboard box in tow,
Soon with apples, it will overflow.
Squirrel and pheasant hunting trips,
Pointing out cloud shapes, look there’s a ship.
Mushroom hunting, we made many trips,
Bringing them home for grandma to fix.
Dipped in batter and fried to perfection,
Tasting better than any confection.
Just a few memories I have of thee,
Alzheimer’s has stolen your memories of me.
For Grandpa; I love you Gramps
By: Dixie Cornell 8/10/2000