This Poem was Submitted By: Philip D. Pederson On Date: 2001-05-14 01:06:16 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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I love to hear.......

Mom's footsteps a shufflin' on the kitchen floor; The tinkle of the bell on the drugstore door, and a cool breeze ticklin' the sycamore... It takes me clean back home.     Flames lickin' at the cedar in the fireplace;     The reverent quiet when Dad says grace,     and the purrin' o' the cat in her sleepin' place...     It's 'bout like being there. The big Grandfather clock - so loud an' all; The neighborhood kids a playin' in the hall, and ol' Pastor Phillips when he'd come t' call... Sure brings back memories.     Thunder crashin', and rain that splatters;     Young girls gigglin' like nuttin' else matters,     and circus-monks talkin' in bits and chatters...     Sounds clear as yesterday. The choir a singin' on a Sunday morn; A rooster declarin' that a calf's been born, and the lonesome cry of our old Ford's horn... 'most makes you wanna cry.     Now I don't hear like most folks do     'cause my ear-pans busted back in forty-two;     so I sits here a lot with nothin' to do     'cept close my eyes, while I listens to...     those Golden Sounds o' Home.

Copyright © May 2001 Philip D. Pederson

Additional Notes:
I could be a kid again! Not now - but surely back then.


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