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
jdubqca 
love this, great mental graphics,
gr8 for ohj today
thanks so much bonnie 🙂
poignant memories, excellent narration in poetry
Thanks again for stopping by and the lovely comment.
Excellent work, John! “Turned pieces of cherry into chessmen” — something about this line stuck with me for days.
Very happy you enjoyed the poem, Millie. Thanks so much for revisiting my poetry.
Really like this a lot! Excellent job. Nice use of WOTD in the last stanza, too 🙂
Thanks so much for visiting, Jan, and leaving the lovely comment. Did not use WOTD until final draft!