I came across some pictures Of long ago, black and whites It held some very young children In their summer time delights We had probably been out fishing Or swimming at the pond Running through the cornfields To the meadow just beyond Sitting on our PaPas' porch He was a farming man Driving up on his tractor With a melon in his hands Taking pride in what he grew Bringing the biggest he could find Sitting there so patiently As he cut through the rind Our jeans rolled up and barefoot, too Clothes cover in Texas sand With smiles of youth so long ago Holding watermelon in our hands Upon our face was the sweetest juice The ground covered in little black seeds Oh, what a summer day that was A joyful time indeed I wish I could sit on that old front porch For just a little time But now it's barely standing So I'll visit it in my mind I know what my brothers and sister Would love to say... How they wish our children could have known "Those watermelon days" ©Brenda Conley 2002 Used With Permission All Rights Reserved By Author Website

 

 
     
     
     

 

     
     
     
 

 
     
     
     

 

     
     
     
 

 

"Country Piano"
Barefoot's Midi Jamboree