Memories of the Perpetual generations
Little one, you really look a lot
Like dear old Uncle Pete,
And like your great auntie, Dot,
You have such tiny feet.
The day is hot, the setting rural,
Or maybe a local park;
We reminisce about Ed and Earl,
Sharing memories until dark.
How many summers come and go,
While we are all around.
And, each more treasured, those we know
And share this common ground.
Grandpa and Grandma, who’ve gone home,
Live on in fond quotation,
And it’s almost shocking we’ve become
The oldest generation.
The characteristics we hold dear,
In memories’ fond pages,
We see repeated year by year,
In those of younger ages.
Joining in on the parades,
Recounting history’s glories,
We find we’re drawn into charades,
Hearing and sharing stories.
A vision of memory, that laughing face,
Of buddy or beauty queen,
Shows up in essence in jaunty grace
Of a casual, modern teen.
New memories at the river made,
Tubing , with its flow.
Feasting in the sheltering shade,
Then delaying, loathe to go.
How sweet the opportunity,
To savor the kindred unity,
©06/22/2011 Carol Morfitt