Thursday, August 17, 2006
A Life of Innocence
A Life of Innocence
1944
No pickets framed a graceful lawn on that low budget farm.
The yard was stickers, gravel, dirt and rocks.
Our toes were stubbed and bleeding, our foot soles tough as leather.
For "everyday" we wore no shoes or socks.
Two old mesquites stood out in front, affording small protection
from mid-day sun that wore our spirits thin.
'Twas there we placed our summer beds to catch the evening breezes
and escape the heat and swelter from within.
There oft I tried to count the stars that twinkled in the heavens
and slept the carefree sleep of innocence.
Although the preacher talked of sin, I hardly knew its meaning
and felt no grown-up need for penitence.
Those were the "good old days" for us because we had no worries.
For kids, no budget problems yet were known.
We always had some grub to eat, although it wasn't fancy,
with energy enough to see us grown.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
1944
No pickets framed a graceful lawn on that low budget farm.
The yard was stickers, gravel, dirt and rocks.
Our toes were stubbed and bleeding, our foot soles tough as leather.
For "everyday" we wore no shoes or socks.
Two old mesquites stood out in front, affording small protection
from mid-day sun that wore our spirits thin.
'Twas there we placed our summer beds to catch the evening breezes
and escape the heat and swelter from within.
There oft I tried to count the stars that twinkled in the heavens
and slept the carefree sleep of innocence.
Although the preacher talked of sin, I hardly knew its meaning
and felt no grown-up need for penitence.
Those were the "good old days" for us because we had no worries.
For kids, no budget problems yet were known.
We always had some grub to eat, although it wasn't fancy,
with energy enough to see us grown.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
