My Favorite things

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Just some simple memories from early years that still bring a smile to my face. Yes the premise was taken from that Sound of Music song.

My Favorite things

What a joy to recall, things that made us feel good

and to bask in those moments, and return if we could,

To each single instant, frozen in time

such as the following thought of selection of mine,

 

The smell of the ocean, the lapping of wave’s

a crisp ripened apple, a long summer’s day.

A lonely boat’s foghorn in the still of the night

the construction and painting of my own homemade kite.


Stories read by my parents while tucked into bed

a new pair of Levi’s and a new pair of Ked’s. .

Stretched out on the floor, Sunday’s comic’s in hand

Lil’ Abner’s adventures, pancakes topped with jam.


Easter eggs brightly colored and hidden in the house

Easter baskets full of candy weighed by lb. not by ounce.

Cows on the farm, skunk scent in the air

the swing on the front porch, a young life without care.


The shucking of pea’s and the stripping of corn

grandpa’s garden out back, and my bicycle horn.

Berry picking with gramma, hot fresh homemade pie

a lettuce tomato sandwich with mayo on rye.


Trips to see cousin’s, picnic’s on the fourth

seed spitting contests, croquet, badminton and more.

Hot pretzel’s with mustard, chuckles soft candied square’s

tall pink cotton candy, a crisp Bartlett’s pear.

 

 Umbrella’s and blankets to lie on the beach

hot dogs then Ice pop’s to ward off the heat.

Horseshoe’s in the clay, badminton in the air

tag between tree’s, chicken fight’s by the pair.


Carving out pumpkin’s, trick or treating for candy

to carry our stash home, Macy’s bags were sure dandy.

Fall colored leave’s raked into huge piles

to jump in and play in and scatter for mile’s.


Jack Frost on the window’s, fresh snow on the ground

frozen lake where we gather to ice skate around.

Sledding down hillsides on my Flexible Flyer

then hiking back up to warm up by the fire.


Snowmen and snow fort’s, and snowball fight battle’s

galoshes and mitten’s, fur hats with ear flappers,

Homemade soup, stew and goulash, all true one pot meals

scratch built Christmas cookies, decorated with zeal.


Cowboy’s an Injun’s with neighborhood friends

Fistfights with buddies than shakin hands,

Outfittin the whole neighborhood with all my guns

To play WW2 combat till one side finally won.

 
The old Christmas Classic’s each year on the tube

Bing, Stewart and Stanwick, Natalie Wood and the Scrooge.

And Holiday special’s by Mitch Miller and Hope

The King Family and other’s, with a Clement Moore quote.


The story of the Christ child, born in Bethlehem that day

the peel of the church bell where we gather and pray.

These memories are special so I’ve shared quite a few

and hope that you’ve found some familiar to you.

 

 

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Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

Whiskers’s Poems (76)

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