Nevermore
We went to that "holler" each summer vacation
Near one hundred acres of mountainside trees
I'd wake up at dawn, take flight to my station
Down at the pond, fishing pole in my hand
On that hot sandbar, all day I would stand
At Mammaw's cabin there were no boundaries
One thing about grandmas, they don't live forever
That awful news hit me at age twenty-four
A loss so incredible I had felt never
Fishing, frogging, climbing, exploring,
Blackberries, walnuts, watching hawks soaring
That "holler" of Mammaw's I saw nevermore
April 2, 2018
Copyright © Randy Steele | Year Posted 2018
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