That Old Familiar Feeling
Going back home again, seeing the face of a good old friend,
Familiar trails still mark the way, pond laying around the bend,
The home place remains, standing as a testament of strength,
Years have gone by so fast, yet all has weathered in its length.
Big oak trees with spreading limbs, unfolding above the scene,
Old barn's timbers held in kind, though looking gaunt and lean.
Birds still sing high in the trees, as white clouds float over head,
A winding road leads the way, back to the years, a feather bed.
Smell of cornbread on the stove, beans and squash, cooked too,
Onions tickle the senses then, sliced thin and thrown in the brew.
Mamma's got the kitchen table set, then she beckons all to come,
Time for a bit of heaven's food, and the good earth, where its from.
We all walk down to a welcoming pond, there to catch a fish, or two,
Might scale and fry them in a pot, hush puppies and fries, all due.
As the evening settles upon the scene, setting on our porch is nice,
The crickets sing a familiar tune, whippoorwill adds a special spice.
The sun sets on such a graceful place, that old home of so long ago,
If only in memories, we may there return, where we lived and did know.
Then to suffice in this yearning quest, our returning there once again,
A sweetness found like no other, so fond and in our wishes, to send.
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