A time of my childhood that I remember so vividly. I was sent to visit in rural Kentucky my aunts and uncles, cousins, and my grandma. She lived very plainly without a bath or inside toilet. It was very foreign to me.

A Summer of Flowers

As I tarried down the dusty road,
kicking rocks along the way,
I stopped to pick some Queen Anne's lace
and daisies for display.
I felt the grime of dirt
and the bite of gnats around my face.
I was just a little girl feeling lonely,
wandering around the place.

Grandma was inside the two-room house
reading mysteries and more.
She was too old for me;
and never understood what I was for.
But I was there for days and nights
suffering in the summer's heat,
scared and hoping for someone else
to give me something to eat.

And when my cousins came to pick me up,
I finally gave a grin.
They saw the dirt around my face
and the scabs on my filthy skin.
They took me back to where I belonged--
in the comfort of their embrace.
I cried as I was welcomed there,
given a bath, food, and their grace.

Poetry by Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 545 times
Written on 2009-07-16 at 00:47

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Nick Matherne
I LOVE how this sets a scene
It is so vivid and describes everingthing so wonderfully.

Verily this piece
Is so great in
Very descriptive
Imagery that it lifts life up to a
Dramatically more beautiful place.

Great write!

Phyllis J. Rhodes
How real this is to me! Of course that granny was mine too and how well I know what you were suffering under. She wasn't a bad person, just crusty and crude and a long way from the days she cared for little ones. The scene you paint is very familiar. I see that dust, smell the dirt and feel the sweat.

Rob Graber
Well written, with rhythmic lines and natural rhymes. A real pleasure!

Amy Valentina
Cherishing the old times... It's always pleasant.
Thanks for making us relish your cherishable moments..

John Lambremont, Sr.
I had this experience once. A friend's alcoholic father left us (age 12) at an isolated bayou fishing camp for a weekend without food or money. I remeber being hot, hungry, mosquito-bitten, and scared.

Your poem expressed this feeling terrifically. Thanks.

It is amazing what we can learn through culture shock. I have felt much like this at least once in my life. There truly is no place like home :-)
Vividly expressed Kathy,
Thanks, Nick

I found this story filled with vivid memories. It is amazing how grandparents can live so differently. Thanks for sharing this amazing story with feeling and words that formulate a picture in one's mind.

You painted such a picture here. Wonderful. I can't help feeling somewhat sorry for your grandmother, not knowing what you were for! That memory is obviously still very strong, not a particularly good one, but i enjoyed the poem you made about it.