I had a wonderful childhood growing up in the hills of West Virginia but left in the 60's to see the world.

My Grandmas Farm

San Francisco with its hills and cable cars is beautiful
But my mind drifts back to West Virginia
Where as a child I would smell the sweet peas and the peonies
My grandma would grow.

Pebble Beach with its lone cypress tree is a treasured site
But my mind drifts back to West Virginia
Where as a child I would climb apple trees or be chased by the turkeys
My grandma would raise.

The Golden Gate with its fog can put me in awe
But my mind drifts back to West Virginia
Where as a child I would gather milk white eggs or pick Concord grapes
With my grandma on her farm.

I enjoyed going to Stern Grove for a lazy picnic
But my mind drifts back to West Virginia
To the dashing of the churn and the taste of butter and cottage cheese
My grandma use to make.

I love riding the merry go round at Pier 39 and catching the golden ring
But my mind drifts back to West Virginia
Where as a child I would swing on rusty gates or play in hay stacks
On my grandma's farm.

The northern coast of California and the ocean waves are beautiful
But not as beautiful as my memories
Of my carefree childhood days in West Virginia
With my grandma on her farm.

If you like my poetry, you can buy me a cup of coffee
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