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Southern Memories (a poem of inspiration)
Moonlight dancing, glimmering on broad lake's dark palette,
The bequiling scent of jasmine, strong, as each breath I take.
Magnolia trees all are blooming, as honey bees are grooming,
Sweet breezes blowing, wafting, until the dawn's light to break.
Devoutest church goers, waiting, all are sitting in their pews,
Listening intently to aged old scriptures, the Bible's good news.
Singing precious and holy hymns, as heads are bent in prayer,
Families all worshiping, then, together, showing that they care.
Sharing food carefully prepared by each, on the churches grounds,
Children run and laugh, to play, as the pastor makes his rounds.
With warm sun light beaming down, peoples's smiles all abound.
Quiet conversations, as wild birds sing, are the beloved of sounds.
Country road of redding clay, dusty tracks, wild creatures all to play,
Here, billowing clouds climb in blue skies, on a bright Summer's day,
Rows of corn, and peanuts, peach tree orchards, in fields, on display,
Under an apple tree, I'll take my nap, where on green clovers, I'll lay.
Memories run down to southern times, finest days of wonder, still,
When swimming in the lakes and streams, gave us each such a thrill.
Barefoot days and carefree times, all are so reflected in my mind,
Calls me home, and no more I'll roam, for are the threads that bind.
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