I often think of the places I've stayed
The reasons I was there
And the memories that were made.

I remember mi mi s house,
I visited every week
And though it smelled of smoke
I never wanted to leave.

I remember the movies we watched
All the time
I remember the joy
That filled her heart and mine.

I also recall other memories
Made in a house just off college street.

In the summer we would go
And try to beat the heat
Nanny always had ice cream
And good watermelon to eat.

In these houses I learned so much
Just watching my grandmothers
As I grew up.

We laughed we played,
We watched TV
And sometimes we were just
Plain silly.

Oh how I wish to these places
I could go
If I could just see their faces and just say hello.

Pick and pencil
Retired and replaced
By a packed piece.
In an acoustic sense,
Life is empty.
In an analytical approach,
Life is already over.
All we’re left with
Is half finished sheet music
And half written pages.

Blue the mountains
holding close in view
sacred smoke of yesterdays
blue fog shrouded trails
beneath the rhododendron

falls of sweet blue water
replenishing the rivers
sapphire lakes reflecting
splendor of the bluest hills
above the peaceful valley

hear the sacred music
of the blue ridge mountains
magic in the songs of old
forever blue my appalachia
blue the hills I used to roam.

r ~ 7/4/14

sometimes time heals things that aren't necessarily broken



-k.l.