Holding Onto Home

White picket fence,
A pastured farm,
Frost on the ground,
A place of charm.

Abandoned grave
'mid cedar trees,
Scent of farmland
Floats in the breeze.

I'm sliding down
the stairway rail;
I walk a mile
to get the mail.

Sunfish splash in
the fishin' hole.
I feel the jerk
on my cane pole.

Those shelled pecans
and snapped green beans;
Smell of bacon
and Turnip greens.

I'll always wander,
Always roam, but
I'm always hold-
ing onto home.