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Visiting Aunt Maud
by David Pekrul
copyright 04-01-2005


Age Rating: 7 to 127

 
She lived in a cabin overlooking a vale,
To get her fresh water, she lowered a pail,
To the valley below, to a small waterfall,
But the pail had a leak, so the intake was small.

I remember our visits when I was a boy,
That filled me with wonder and filled me with joy,
To the home of the woman we knew as Aunt Maud,
And a house in the woods and a cellar of sod.

We’d turn off the road where the rail-line would weave,
The lane-way was long as it wound through the trees,
Then we’d come to the cabin, all made out of logs,
To be greeted by Bessie, her Saint Bernard dog.

I remember her horse, big and strong, dirty white,
But I never got close, 'cuz the horse liked to bite,
And the car in the shed was as old as the hills,
But we knew if it worked, it would give us a thrill.

The rooms in the cabin were dim and so small,
And often I wondered why there wasn’t a hall,
And the stove in the kitchen burned sawdust and wood,
But the food from the oven was sweet and so good.

And late in the evening, when the sun went to bed,
We’d sit in the parlor with a fresh loaf of bread,
And stare at the fire and talk of the day,
Tomorrow we’d leave, but I wished we could stay.

But the best part of all was a hike in the vale,
Through the meadow of flowers and all through the dale,
A time to explore and let visions run wild,
I will cherish that time, when I was a child.


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07-05-2005 Sam Hackel-Butt    

Such beautiful word pictures in this poem, David! Sounds like a dream. I remember when I was 6 or 7 my family went for a week to Lake Placid, and it was absolutely magnificant. I can still remember the hikes in the woods and finding a small colony of small toads. Thank you for entering my contest ^-^

Sam


04-02-2005 James Shammas    

This also reminded me of my old memories of visiting my Aunt Eileen in Pennsyvania, which was to us the "real country", with the scents of the grass and hills, the barn, and so much more.
Anyway, I like the gentle, 'rolling along' feeling I got from the poem, but I got stuck between the last sentence of the first stanza and the rest of of the poem. I think I was expecting something to develop out of the statement about the pail with the leak, but perhaps I put too much significance on this and it is just part of the catalouge of memories you had of her.


04-01-2005 Anthony Lane Stahlhut    

We all have memories of our childhood that are forever burned into our mind. The memory that you speek of is a warm one. I truely enjoyed the poem and the trip through the vale. This is a painting of words and it is very good. Thanks, Anthony


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