It's the summer of forty-seven
a quiet time in rural Delaware
Saturday morning, I am awakened
by the sound of Mr. Butler's large saw
powering through long pieces of oak
streets and alleys seldom saw autos
and so it was on early summer morns
I walked down the dirt alley from home
to Butler's wood working shop
a large, friendly man was Fred
boys my age,enchanted by his craftsmanship
he could build anything from wood
he was always busy
just he and his brother, Woody
not sure what his given name was
freshly hewn wood aroma filled the air
sawdust piled high beneath the saw
and small pieces of discarded scrap
that's what we boys were after
swords, rifles and the like they'd become
with the brush of our imaginations
a fort or two we had constructed
with scraps of pine
over the summertime
adventure, that was our quest
on a Sussex County Saturday
we lads were among the best
no foe too great nor brave
for us to overcome
our bloody swords and spent cartridges
about the play area lay
until suddenly came the recall
"Jon Michael, it's lunchtime
the general, my mom
had shouted out her orders
sorry boys, I gotta run
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Edwin
Ron
Peace, Love & Poetry
Much Love To You
Embraced~Embrassé
Vickie
Sandie Angel :o)
Beautiful rich memories recalled lovingly and with depth, I see and hear and feel them all; just gorgeous.
John
Regis
Be always safe,
Karen
Love, Christine
memories to recall,and enjoy over again!
Thanks for sharing Jon...
Love,
Eileen
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
Loved every line. I had a neighbor like Mr. Butler, and once
he built me a kayak(!) in his workshop. What a memory, thanks
to you, my friend. -gene.
with the brush of our imaginations
a fort or two we had constructed
with scraps of pine.
I remember those days, no video games, only limited by our imaginations. Banishing imagined foes and saving fair maidens,(didn't really know why anyone would want to save a girl, but it seemed the right thing to do). Cowboys and Indians before political correctness. Pickup basebaall and football were the order of the day.
God, what fun we had. We never gave one thought to sitting inside the house unless it was Saturday morning cartoons.
Yes, those were the finest of times, nary a care in the world.
My mom had a whistle that could be heard for blocks.
Thanks Jon for a walk down memory lane.
Walt