Cowritten by Kathy Lockhart and Michael Meddings
started one April afternoon and finished by me
one lonely Sunday morning in June, 3 weeks and 3 days
after he past through to his eternal home.
Memories (my last co-write with Michael Meddings)
Oh this April
Now that England is there
Reminds me of the time
And the place in another year
When spring times were full joy
As bird nesting whilst a boy
I roamed for miles
By woodland ways
Seeking for the nest
Of a Sparrowhawk
And in this time
Spring, in the USA
I have sweet memories
Of wild onions and new mown hay
And bare feet on tender grass
Then lying down watching clouds pass
Each one a shape
Then another
As I in wonder
Enjoy contentment
Then June along
Came the song of running feet
Spiked the shoes athletics meet
Nothing quite
like the sound
Of steel spikes
entering the ground
Run, half miler run
Wait, wait, wait
for the sound of the starters gun
On June time Saturdays
And on into the latter days
Came the 440 relays
Passing batons in hot bed cinders
Enough to render a girl covered in sweat
and black gnat attacks
around face and back
Oh, the frustration
When at my station
Was a dog bent on chasing
This runner pacing 'round the track
And Wednesdays
Combined cadet force Wednesday
Uniformed In khaki grey
Marching feet to the sound of the beat
One, two, three, four, five, six
And abo----ut turn
Left ,right, left, right, left, right
Platoon antics school boy frantics
Training for a war we hoped
Would never come
Yes, those were the days.
Those sun-filled thrills of the old ways
Twirling batons and hula hoops
Riding rides like the Loop-d-loop
Cotton candy days
Candy apple ways
I, in my polka dotted swim suit,
Playing hopscotch and eating fruit
Fresh off the tree
Scabbed and bandaged knees
Those days were fun.
Yet afternoon Wednesday
Was freedom day
Downtown revelries
Before prep bell and what the hell
If I missed dinner any way
She would be there,
Guglianos cafe
Waiting for me her soldier boy
One so shy you could
Almost hear him blush
Freedom day was every day
riding my bike
and taking hikes
throughout my neighborhood
It was so good until I had
to swallow that pill
of maturing into womanhood
At the age of eleven I was in Heaven
'til my sister brought home the BRA!
What? It's for me? oh gee...
And all at once that girl
That nuisance who
Through and through wanted
To join in all our games call us names
Even come fishing on sacred Sundays
Then tell her friends on Mondays
That I had worn out under wear
Slowly yet surely I began to wish
She would come, share her bubble gum
And be nice and kiss me
That bra lasted one trip
Around the block
The clock never ticked
Off one minute before i wasn't in it
For it started to ride up my chest
My sister had failed her quest
To tie up my growing breasts
It ended up in my bottom drawer
And I was twelve before
I decided it would do me any good
And then one day it all came to be
the meeting of you meeting me
Oh the joy we shared in all we did
All grown up and grandparents to boot
It took us all those years and many tears
to find the love that made us whole
In those short but fulfilling months
We both became better persons in every way
and then the time came
no one to blame
You past on to your new life through death
You took one last earthly breath
Then parted to the eternal, blessed realm
Of your heavenly home
waiting for me to meet you there
So we can enjoy the refreshing air
of our forever love.
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 646 times
Written on 2008-06-10 at 00:09
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Phyllis J. Rhodes |
Phyllis J. Rhodes |
kath |
Amna Ehsan |