I faintly remember the distant past.
Smells of the dusty road, the creek, and newly mown grass.

Smells didn't matter much when I was a kid
Too engaged with other things, Heaven forbid 

We were poor as church mice. We had no shoes. 
We were happy as could be just singing the blues. 

In the one-room school, we sang in harmony. 
Miss Marie, the School Marm taught us our A B C’s

After school, boys swam in the creek.
I learned many lessons most I can't repeat.

The good old days were better then.
It seems I have trouble remembering them.

January 25, 2024
MarkWaldrop