Sittin' on the front porch,
With Grandpa, sippin' tea;
No one else in the whole wide world,
'Cept my Buddy, Grandpa and me.
Lazy days of summer,
Spent on Grandpa's farm;
Spill like sunbeamed memories,
To always keep me warm.
Running through the hayfield,
A barefoot boy like me;
The slightest smell of fresh mown hay,
Brings back those days so free.
Laying on a bale of hay,
In Grandpa's barn, up high;
Dreamin' dreams and watching clouds,
Drift 'cross a summer sky.
The smell of Grandma's cooking,
Drifting through the evening air;
Is still there in my memory,
In those day without a care.
My mind goes back there now and then,
To a place so rich and free,
Sittin' there on Grandpa's porch,
Just my Buddy, Grandpa and me.
Allison Chambers Coxsey
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