just can’t pick a ripe one like he could
barefoot on the kitchen linoleum,
we’d gobble up the summer fruit
watermelon juice dripping down our chins,
pappaw’d slice up more pieces
we laugh about these memories now,
wondering how we used to be so happy
2 thoughts on "just can’t pick a ripe one like he could"
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That last line- a surprise. Lost innocence. Beautiful.
That fine simplicity of nourishing the soul with a quality family moment!
Grandparents certainly know what they’re doing.
Lovely to see you writing and sharing. Thank you!
I believe I recall meeting you at an open mic for LexPoMo, which I think was an event you also requested.
Never stop creating and asking the Universe for what you want.