Rockin’ Chair
A tiny dog-trot
cabin, yet the porch was wide
Pappy built it
like the one that Mammy’d spied
In alabaster
pale full moon light the old swing rusty chains did squeak
The homemade
oaken rocker swayed, the old man’s interest piqued
“Pap,” allowed
the boy, “her gold hair shines like noon-time halo sun”
His father
nodded, knowing that this lad’s tale of love had now begun
A young man’s
star-struck words spoken in religious reverence
His brown eyes
aglow so soft to personify eternal pleasur-ence
“She speaks a
language sugar-coated through sweet honey lips
To caress soft
hand akin to flower nectar which a wild bee sips”
That rocker
groaned as Pappy reached to tap his corncob pipe
A work-hard hand
did a tear-stained cheek ever-gently wipe
The youth went
on without notice of the prideful sign
“Pap, I’ll ask
her hand, for love is purely my design”
Quiet still, the
old man rose but found no words to speak
A
shoulder-firm-approval pat gave all the boy did seek
With love they’d
reared this child as parents should
That gentle
touch said, “Son, you have done good”
The rainbow
flower bed before the porch wafted fragrant summer roses
At dawn, the old
man takes a fresh bouquet to where his wife reposes
The boy dreamed
glory-fame in that midnight star-filled diamond sky
Pappy smiled
tears of future coming tempered in bright days gone by
In seeming end
each new beginning lies some patient wait
Where ’ere thee
be in time is right, never is our future late
From here to
pointed there, enjoy full well this wondrous journey so
Thank God for
life, celebrate by shouting, “Yes! Lord! I will go!”
Amen! Amen!
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