poetry by j matthew waters

Summer of Seventy-Two

The old man whittled
while rocking in a wooden chair
on the front porch
all summer long.

We visited him daily
bringing along a beer or two
we stole from our folks,
watched as he turned pieces of cherry
into chessmen.

In the Spring
he had lost his son to the war;
but in the Summer
he just rocked away
carving and sipping,
providing all us boys the wherewithal
to win the game.

april, two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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8 thoughts on “Summer of Seventy-Two

  1. cyberbonn on said:

    love this, great mental graphics,
    gr8 for ohj today

  2. poignant memories, excellent narration in poetry

  3. Excellent work, John! “Turned pieces of cherry into chessmen” — something about this line stuck with me for days.

  4. Really like this a lot! Excellent job. Nice use of WOTD in the last stanza, too 🙂

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