Grandpa’s flicker, his eyes foretold the fondness of youth
Passion of dear memories near gone.
His anticipation to bring his world of times he held so dear
Showcased his love, though subtly forlorn.
Dad sees Dad nostalgic; Dad weaves new memories the child adore
Their glee spills over to sisters and me
Our new love of fishing in a camp on the lake, indelible nature frames
Deep sensory imprints revisited do we
Mom’s devotion, her selfish less heart, envelopes this novel in packages dear
Nurtures individual thrills but proudly takes second
To our freedom from routine. She tends the camp, makes beds and gourmet
We rush to devour, her dinner does beckon
The fare lay lovingly as paint to canvas, that days catch and treats from home
Our gathering comforts, our focus absorbed.
Around mismatched furniture, chairs past their prime lake sounds are lullabies
As the unsaid departure is abhorred
A final evening for all in presence, Bittersweet moments so permanently etched
Deeply woven into each’s special way
Another leaf of our life grown into our heart, our parents and grandpa mold fertile care
Their goblet of honor, we drink while away
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Submission Name: Little Woods
