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Remembering When

Sometimes my mind goes wandering back
To an old familiar country road.
I can smell sweet honeysuckle blooms
Beside a creek that gleamed as it flowed.

Mom and Dad leap into my memory.
Also barefoot kids and fishing poles,
Inner tubes from old discarded tires
Floated us downstream to deep blue holes.

I recall blackberries and zinc pails,
The sound of rain on a roof of tin,
Hand-sewn quilt tops and Sunday dresses-
Sometimes it’s sad “remembering when.”

I can’t forget kids’ pattering feet
Or a home where love grew ev’ry day.
Things that shaped the person I’ve become
Are memories I can’t cast away.

—Barbara Cagle Ray (see page 22)