That time again,
Leaves falling end of year,
So many times we’ve come,
But without you now,
You loved the apple catapult,
And wandering in corn mazes,
The jokes we told and laughs aloud,
Still burn within me now,
And every time we come,
I see your smile around the corner,
Every bump on hay rides,
The dark mazes debacles,
Picking a pumpkin for carving,
Your grandson you cherished,
I’ll try to be the son you wished I’d be,
And pass on the joy of life you loved.
About the Creator
Jamye Sharp
Oregon writer, trying to have some fun and improve my craft.
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More stories from Jamye Sharp and writers in Poets and other communities.
Political Thirty-Three
Inevitable? A woman named Good is lost. Unforgivable. * Note: I don't think that I have to explain this one to anyone noting recent news, but I have included a video link below for future generations who can still feel empathy and compassion for someone who got caught up in history. And I was just too angry to say more with this piece.
By Kendall Defoe 3 days ago in Poets
Let's Don't Do This
"I just can't do this anymore..." "Do what?" What can't you do? Put gas in your own car? I swear to God you make me take care of everything, don't you? You know I'm on my way to work right now but that never stops you from bothering me, does it?"
By Shirley Belk7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
Such a gorgeous tribute, Jamye ♥️
well written, great work
Oh my, what a big pumpkin. Such a vibrant happy colour. My heart is swelling while reading this, this is a poem to be cherished. You did well, I loved it. It’s bittersweet, I want to both cry and smile.
A heartfelt tribute,Jayme.