The Saw Mill
When I was a boy I thought it was a magic place,
A sanctuary away from life and routine,
Where I could wander like a summer’s breeze,
Building dreams and childhood memories.
The buzzing saws quit snarling and rattling,
spitting out piles of dust and long boards.
The sweet-scented scent wafted free,
Blowing across the hills like memory.
One afternoon Mr. Sessions loaded up
Razor edged saws and sharp tooth blades
Leaving only sawdust up to the knee,
Fresh cut piles of lumber just a memory.
The old water wheels, no longer turning;
Rusted, and slowly sank into the brook.
Generations of children, growing like trees,
Now wade and fish and make memories.
The stone and cement dam washed away
And the empty mill leans dangerously,
Askew on aged timbers from another century
Like another house haunted in memory.
Some would say it is better this way,
what is old should go to make way for new,
like tides and the ever changing seas,
But often times romance lives in memories.
One day soon I shall wander again
Along Abbott’s Brook to the old mill
And rest among the fall colored trees,
sharing someone else’s memories.
Long before my boyhood wanders and exploration
Up the creaky stairs and ladders and into lofts
Among mice nests, and the drone of bees
The mill was imprinted with lovers’ memories.
While being courted by that Farnum boy
Grace would wander to the mill house
And leave notes for her love in a tree;
Every day creating; the stuff of memory.
Meet me by the moonlight, beautiful and bright,
I will be waiting for you at eleven tonight.
Beside the rocky stream so pretty,
We will make an eternal memory.
If the walls of the old mill could talk,
If simple wooden beams could see,
What a tale they would tell you and me,
About love’s sweet, sweet memory.
Behind an old board is a faded box;
tattered words and poems,future plans,
love written in every word of these,
The mill hides and keeps these memories.
When I was a boy I thought it was just my magic place,
But I hope the old saw mill still makes your heart race.
May it always make your smile come free,
And love always be more than just a memory.
Royal
I have an old royal typewriter
With the letter “E” missing.
Sometimes I take it out in the dark
When loneliness makes me write.
With the letter “E” missing
Some words come out wrong
And some just right
When I pour out feelings.
Sometimes I take it out in the dark
And write by candlelight
Seeking comfort from
The shadows I am chasing.
When loneliness makes me write
I realize the past never leaves
When I carry it around like
An old typewriter with the “E” letter missing.
(The Mill Pond) ANDREW’S HOLLOW
Across the old mill pond
Noonday light streamed
Diamond pure and untamed
Radiating with heaven’s glow
Eternally boyish and dreaming
Wondering at God’s face,
Sitting on high looking at me.
How does the sun break through clouds’
Overcast on days when we need
Little reminders of His Glory?
Lighthearted again I commenced my journey.
Once again strengthened.
Wonderful is our God!
Old Blue Ribbon
Just another knot
in that old blue ribbon;
that is what you are,
A memory tied to me.
I met you on an island.
We were cliche and true;
southern Pacific fun,
and surf pounded lust.
The memories are far behind;
just a frayed band.
Lightened by sun and strife;
you are the old ribbon
tied to my heart.
In your ebon tresses
was knotted a ribbon bright.
Against the darkness,
Once you were my light.
You live in a land
of perpetual summer.
I was only desert to you.
The cold comforts of life
are my forever home.
I took something away,
as strong or weak as
Thread woven from
a single black hair.
Like something found
in an empty car seat.
I still carry your memory
through days and decades
and thousands of miles,
Your presence was my present.
My present longs for sunshine,
clouded by the memory; our past.
On these cold winter days
I pray for the weakest rays.
In absence of a dormant sun,
I carefully pull the past out
and slip into the comfort
of your imagined embrace.
There I cast fact aside.
I like the relationship
we could have had
As I re-live a month
of shameless lust and heat;
We are just another knot.
That old blue ribbon
Is just what you are;
memories tied to me.
Memories tied to me
in that old blue ribbon.
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