A pitcher of lemonade
Sunday newspaper scattered
Like leaves on the floorboards
My best friend lies content next to my rocker

As I stare out into paradise
I think on all my blessings

Nothing fancy
Just a plain ol’ cabin
In a valley of green
Wrapped in the arms of tall peaks

The days grow short
Autumn’s long since passed this way
Those hills tell me all I need to know
Their heads snow capped now
It’s time to hunker down

Sunset
My best time
Cup of Jo
Last slice of apple pie

My old pal looks up as if to say
Ain’t this a good life?
You bet my friend
It’s the best there is
For two such as we.


Posted by kind permission of the poet.