I woke up with this idea for a poem. I have no idea where it come from.
On hot summer nights
Sitting on the porch
Absorbing a velvet night
Into my wrinkled skin of ages
Rocking on that old chair
Grandpa built with his own hands
While gazing at a supper dish moon
I recall with a smile resembling boyhood
Running through Grandpa’s cornfield
Many a July day filled with freedom
Arms wide, rustling the husks
Sun making me feel yellow and glad
Its glow brimming my youth with vigor.
The passing stalks were like the years
Each lasting its own short season
Enjoyed and soon forgotten
While anxiously awaiting the next.
Copyright 2006 JO Janoski