Reminiscence Poem by Della Hodgson James

Where went the days
  When I was young,
When I chased the
  Whirling golden leaves,
And picked the fox grapes
  Where they clung,
And skinned the bark
  From the persimmon trees.
The hazelnuts they
  Should be brown,
And the juicy blackhaws
  Over on the glade.
The blueberries, too,
  And the hickory town,
And the tastiest
  Watercress, God ever made.

* * *

To-Flo-Eva, and Steave.
By-Granny James….