From the time I was a little girl
For as long as I can remember
We had a giant woodpile
From January through December
My dad chopped and stacked wood
And I loved to help with it all
I'm sure I didn't always do it right
Beside my dad so handsome and tall
But it was a time that we shared
I just loved to hear him talk
About the years when he was growing up
Down that bygone path we'd walk
And when I grew up and had kids
I too would have a wood pile
A solitary job it was
For I was a widow after awhile
The past brings me such pleasure
And I've always understood
A lifetime of memories were created
While I was chopping wood!
What a lovely memory to hold on to Marilyn. I do remember the wood piles, and there was something warming about sitting in front of a fire alight with logs. Lovely read, started me thinking. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
Wow...sorry my words can't describe how beautiful this is...simple, real, yet elegant...thanks...Coach
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very sweet remembrance of one of life's simpler moments.