March 27

There is a place

There is a place

Wrapped in brown paper and tied with string

Waiting for me….


Occluded by plain paper, belying its beautiful contents

And in the half light I can almost see it.

Moving through the fields and whispering pines

Over well mended fences and sleeping horses so fine.


The people who once lived here loved this place, 

and now I get to love it the same

my mother and her dearest wish

became my dearest wish

and look what it all became


now I will tend the farm

I will till the soil

I will plant the seeds

I will fret over the weather a bit

And I will reap the peace and happiness


In the night the creek will babble

The cicadas will drone

The owl will sing his plaintive whistling song

While my family sleep


In the mornings the animals will stir

Light will pour in through every window

Steaming mugs of tea will welcome the awakenings

There are children, a husband and animals to feed


Horses wait impatiently for grain and hay

Hens sit their eggs and wait for scratch

Dogs lie in the morning sun

Vegetables sit ripe and dew fallen waiting to be picked for dinner


I see the entrance now…

A sign crafted by me

An avenue of trees

A destination called home.


~Charlotte 7.16.09


Tags: , ,
Copyright 2021. All rights reserved.

Posted March 27, 2020 by Charlotte Von Woffle Greer in category "All of Charlotte's Poetry

About the Author

From Review: "Charlotte Von Woffle Greer is an artist in the truest sense of the word. Tormented, embattled, strong, fearless and fearful. Curious, and full of wonder yet jaded and defeated at times. An artist shares what they feel. A true and brave artist shares what they feel completely as Charlotte does, in these pages." -Erik Johnson