We sit along the water’s edge
Waiting for a tug on our lines
Sweetly reminiscing
About old friends and company
Family members we’re missing.

Shots heard in the distance
I pray the targets missed
Your hands show your age
Your face, sun worn
Your eyes still that of a five year old.

Smiling, when I catch a weed pike
Or you hear the sound of the old field toad
A thermos full of hot coffee
All the stories you have told.
So many memories

I love that old flannel shirt you’re wearing
I’ve sewn the buttons and your torn pocket sleeve
More times than I can count
Looks like the fog’s rolling out
The sun is coming up.

It’ll be lunchtime, before you know it.


Image from Google Images:

Author: Patty Richardson

Writer: Film scripts, poetry, short stories.

2 thoughts on “SNAPSHOT”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: