This Poem was Submitted By: Doris C. Swearingen On Date: 2000-08-19 16:03:21 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Summer 1939

Rebecca is dying, come home Anna to see your sister. Is forgiving your father too much to ask? It wasn't his way, Anna. Seeing your belly swell with the love of the summer farmhand  hurt him bitterly. It made me sad hearing the both of you screaming angry words at each other. Those words have hung over this farm for three years now. I miss you. Old Jake still sleeps in your room. I swear I hear him  whimpering most nights. I hear your father talking to him the way you did when you were here. The berry bushes are heavy with the dark, sweet fruit you love. The corn is bursting sweet and yellow. It is Rebecca's last summer. Wildflowers have spread a blanket of color for her. Come home Anna, pick bright bouquets of fragrance and show her the Milky-Way laced with stars across the night sky. She needs to say good-bye and a foolish old man needs to see his grandson.

Copyright © August 2000 Doris C. Swearingen


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