Holidays Back Home
11/28/2005 02:49 Filed in: Miscellaneous
by Kathy Mansfield
It’s holidays back home,
Where time stands pretty darn still,
It’s holidays back home,
Where I go back to what is real.
When we get there Mom will say I’ve gained a little weight,
But, bless my soul she’ll pile her cooking high upon my plate.
Dad will ask the umpteenth time, “When ya’ll gonna have kids?”
By the time the sun goes down, he’ll be snoring behind closed lids.
On the roads you’ll surely see gun racks on every truck,
The daily news is filled with pics of “first-kill bucks.”
Screen doors slam and cowbells ring as day turns into dusk,
Mom hollers for some help with peas to shell and corn to husk.
Cotton bales are piled up high and catfish fill the ponds,
Our family spends the afternoon picking up pecans.
After supper we take a walk and slap mosquitoes from our arms,
We watch the lights go out down the road at the neighbors’ farms.
No matter where life takes me, no matter the heights I climb,
Back home is where I go when I need a quieter time.
It’s holidays back home
Where time stands pretty darn still,
It’s holidays back home
Where I go back to what is real.
© 2005, Kathy Mansfield
It’s holidays back home,
Where time stands pretty darn still,
It’s holidays back home,
Where I go back to what is real.
When we get there Mom will say I’ve gained a little weight,
But, bless my soul she’ll pile her cooking high upon my plate.
Dad will ask the umpteenth time, “When ya’ll gonna have kids?”
By the time the sun goes down, he’ll be snoring behind closed lids.
On the roads you’ll surely see gun racks on every truck,
The daily news is filled with pics of “first-kill bucks.”
Screen doors slam and cowbells ring as day turns into dusk,
Mom hollers for some help with peas to shell and corn to husk.
Cotton bales are piled up high and catfish fill the ponds,
Our family spends the afternoon picking up pecans.
After supper we take a walk and slap mosquitoes from our arms,
We watch the lights go out down the road at the neighbors’ farms.
No matter where life takes me, no matter the heights I climb,
Back home is where I go when I need a quieter time.
It’s holidays back home
Where time stands pretty darn still,
It’s holidays back home
Where I go back to what is real.
© 2005, Kathy Mansfield