Sipping cider on the farm
Apple pie and blueberry
Mama making homemade cakes
And cobblers made with cherries.

Daddy’s pipe and overalls
Mama’s rocking chair and apron
Kitchen smells and dinner bells
All the memories that we’re making.

Tractor rides, hay bales, and stalls
Riding horses thru the pasture
Makes me think of better days
All the fun and all the laughter.

Chicken coops, pigs in a pen
Feeding chickens, cats and hogs
Getting thru my daily chores,
Then running with my dog.

Days gone by, what fun we had
Sunday mornings after church
Racing up the back porch steps
Always trying to be first.

Home cooked meals, served hot each day
Mashed potatoes and brown gravy
Tons of fresh green beans picked and served
From the garden to the table.

Now mama’s gone, and daddy too
Made their way straight up to heaven
Things aren’t what they used to be
The way they were, when I was seven.


Image from Google Images: clipart-library.com

Author: Patty Richardson

Writer: Film scripts, poetry, short stories.

7 thoughts on “WHEN I WAS SEVEN”

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