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Reminiscence By Beatrice M. Hanson I
Wish that I could travel back to
years of long ago, to
skip the rope or bounce the ball, or
spin my yo-yo so. I’d love to hear my Mother call for
me to lick the dish, or
break the chicken-bone in half to
see who gets his wish. The
years come now in quick parade of
memories by the score, the
spiders web we filled with flies, behind
the old barn door. The
apple orchard laden down with
fruit that touched the ground, and
in the air a pungent smell of
ripening all around. Oh
let us run as children will beyond
the old cow gate, the
sky and earth and pastures green, and
miles and miles of space. The
chestnut tree upon the hill was
then our secret spot, to
lie upon the grassy knoll and
eat the lunch we’d brought. The
noisy brook came winding down, so
far and yet so near, to
bend around the willow tree and
then to disappear. The
summer day came to an end. The
sun began to set, and
like the youth we know no more, the
glow ,we can’t forget. If
ever there’s a Heaven where
all the old folks go, I wish that we could only findthose
kids of long ago, and
once again relive the
days of childhood’s precious
years, like sparkling dew upon the grass,before
it disappears.
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