Lingering memories of horses

And cowboys that ride upon knees,

Tall tales not found in any book of stories.

Lawrence Welk’s champagne bubbles on Sunday eves,

Buck Owens on Hee-Haw sings country melodies.

Walter Cronkite drones on the nightly news,

About crime rates, recession, and things abstruse.

Upon the couch you both listen in awe,

While I am happy just lying by grandma and grandpa.

My head on her lap feet lay upon yours,

Silently you doze off and begin to snore.

Ponies and cows, milking and feed,

A walk though the fields while chewing on weeds.

A fishing pole set, worm wiggling upon hook,

While the bobber sits floating atop of a brook.

“Grandpa, Watch me, look I can swim,”

I take a deep breath and then I dive in.

Strong hands wielding an axe,

Peaceful countryside once quiet, now echoes back

The rap of the resounding crack.

A drive to the orchard, cardboard box in tow,

Soon with apples, it will overflow.

Squirrel and pheasant hunting trips,

Pointing out cloud shapes, look there’s a ship.

Mushroom hunting, we made many trips,

Bringing them home for grandma to fix.

Dipped in batter and fried to perfection,

Tasting better than any confection.

Just a few memories I have of thee,

Alzheimer’s has stolen your memories of me.

For Grandpa; I love you Gramps

By: Dixie Cornell 8/10/2000