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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