The good old days were there, once upon a time,
and I loved all of it, but
I wasn’t one of those who had the wealth
of grandparents, I had the second best,
which tells the story of those old days.

A once upon a time story.
Yes, books too, and when the arguing began,
and the maples were my refuge.
Where parents worked and survived
and sometimes, they didn’t.
Some days were love stories, some tragic,
and I lived in those, too.
A farm with the hogs,
chickens, rabbits, cows, a horse, and fields full
of hay and weeds.

Pastures of green and oakes
circled in brown and red, and a persimmon tree
that bore magical fruit.
I had creeks that rose and fell

and splashed in them.
Frogs that croaked
through the night, and a moon
that was more silver than white,
and baggy clouds that covered sadness.

There were hills and valleys, tall Oaks
and shrubby trees, sticker and poke bushes.

Then stepped through a hole
in the fence, then up the steep hill to a pond
where giant catfish swam and bass
slung their meaty selves on the end
of a cane pole.