Happy memories

Sunday Mornings, the roosters warnings walking together those days.
Eggs in the griddle a soft song from fiddle that played from the stereo.
Cob webs in windows,smoke from the old stove, a love, a memory only a few could know.
A Walking stick ,and rubber boots ,his old felt hat and a pocket of Red-man chew. Walking down to turkey creek with his beagle blue.
Life lessons and fun too.
Blood Sweat and tears, and a fire when the day was through.
A new bb gun , a broken window , a stern talking too.
Cowboys and indians ,playing in the woods with neighbor friends to sunset came and went.
We were wild-men, Tarzan, the lone ranger.
Putting pennies on the railway tracks to us that was flirting with danger.
When we turned 16 we got our jeep she ran like hell and the gas tank leaked. We were kings tearing down old Reid Road.
Cane poles and craw dads, lying about the fish we caught but never brought back.
Tall tales and cousins at turkey camp.
Days in the barn working on the ford.
Shouting to the rafters when the old girl actually worked.
These memories are lost but not forgotten.
Even as the barn paint fades and frame grows rotten .
I have left this place never to return.
It's ashes sit in my empty room as a memorial; a solemn tomb.
Life brings us love and laughter for reasons untold.
We step back and see as the grand story unfolds.
Friends made and memories shared.
We walk side by side like we did on those Sundays.
New lands and new adventures await but I will always... we always remember the memories just beyond that rusty old gate.