Pattie's Acre

Pattie’s Acre

Autumn leaves were filling the air,
There on Brokenstraw Creek;
Her eyes decried, “Come get your share,”
There was no need to speak.
Lazy silk clouds rolling by,
On an October breeze;
I never felt any more at Peace,
Than that day at Brokenstraw Creek.

I took her hand in mine,
And she smiled a bit;
If ever we were one,
No doubt then that was it.

In dreams & times like these it seems,
When I now feel old, lost, and weak;
I wish we had stayed and shared our last days,
Near the waters of Brokenstraw Creek.
I’d find a fossil or two,
By the banks of Brokenstraw Creek…

© 2013 All Rights Reserved
By
Steven C. Whipple
&
Pattie Ann Smith