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Childhood…

20 Jan

womanwriterblog

Childhood…

I have enough memories to last me a lifetime.  They will not bury themselves from which they were born.  I remember a small country church, a chorus of crows, the splashing of a brook running through the nearby Pine trees, wind stroking the branches with its unseen fingers. There was love and peace on top of Burleson Mountain.  Death, a road away from the weathered house of worship, the hearse black and cold; followed by black feathered angels. 

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The years go by quickly, and I returned.  No longer will the water near the Pines cool my Grandmothers thirst, nor will the winds embrace her leathered flesh.

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The old shack stood for decades, the rocker on her porch is stilled, no hand waves goodbye.  In a cobwebbed corner of the old tenant farmers shack, the sun shined through a cloudy window, while an image of tattered plastic curtains dance on a nearby cracked mirror hanging on the wall.  Childhood is dead.

 

©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

Authors Books on Line:

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http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/ann+johnson+murphree

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5 responses to “Childhood…

  1. derrickjknight

    January 20, 2017 at 3:16 pm

    Unfortunately the pictures haven’t come out on mine?

    Liked by 1 person

     
 
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