Bedford

With childhood eyes reflecting.

Clear mountain day remembering.

Fresh cut hay reviving.

Together we’d play,etching 

memories never to be forgotten.

 

The morning crisp awakening.

Aromas hint of baking.

Small morning eyes awaiting.

The wrinkled chef creating

the delicacies of home-made art.

 

Calloused hands observing.

A rugged land preserving.

Unwilling souls still learning.

Dust and heat for hours shaping

boys who soon would face the world.

 

Cool mountain shadow approaching.

The weathered rancher nodding

Nightly ventures seeking.

The crystal streams providing

all a boy could ever want.

 

The dinner table calling.

The cold night gently falling.

The glow from window beaming.

Through which family sits praying,

thanking God for what he’s given.

 

The warm fire softly crackling.

The old folk softly chatting.

While childhood eyes slip drifting

off to pleasant dreams forever…

calling my heart back home to Bedford.