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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1860870
Going back home.
Twenty years away, and Gramps welcomes me
back to the farm
with morning chores, just like it was before
down on the farm:
milking cows and feeding the animals
out in the barn.
A little honest toil will definitely
do me no harm.

I collect a dozen eggs for breakfast
from the henhouse--
this lifestyle is certainly a far cry
from my penthouse--
scrambled or fried with biscuits and gravy
and country ham,
fresh baked bread slathered with homemade
strawberry jam.

Now, we’re ready to take on the day’s task
out in the field.
We hitch up the mule and prepare to pull
stumps from the field.
Then, we’ll switch over to the plow and start
tilling the field,
so we can plant the seeds to ensure a
bountiful yield.

With the day’s work done, we take the pickup
to the pool hall
and gather with some chums for a friendly
game of nine ball
while listening to old favorites by
Conway Twitty,
before returning to the rat race in
New York City.

© Copyright 2012 Dave has company (drschneider at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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