Being where my mother grew
up,
Was an odd feeling to say the least,
Seeing the farm and the land and the animals
close up,
Strangely had put me at ease.
Gathering 'round the old kitchen table,
Laden heavy with old country cooked food,
My Grandfather giving the Blessing if he was
able,
Everyone talking and in a good mood.
But at night is when I could hear the tick
tock,
Of that old timepiece hanging in the hall,
Memories can be built on a clock,
The Clock on Grandfather's Wall.
© 2014 William M. Ward
