Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Thursday August 10, 2010 The Pink House by the Bay

I am reminded of the Pink House by the bay,
Cary and Kathleen, gentleman and anything but a gentlelady,
Summer breezes blow,
Onie and Jo, soul of the whole shebang,
Lash your trusty companion,
And Hondo without the sense to get out of the road.
Fig trees blossom in spring,
...Palm trees rustle in gentle breezes.

Places to wonder, places to hide.
Billiards upstairs, trunks and wardrobes.
Colorful flowers bloom across the green,
Manicured lawn,
Racing to the water's edge,
The long pier, just right for fishing.
A summer home for the family,
...Palm trees rustle in gentle breezes.

They used to walk the cow down to the bay,
Thirty miles or more,
So there would be fresh milk for the children,
Later a full-time home.
All of the old folks were gone,
And now we are gone, too.
...The palm trees rustle in gentle breezes.

We returned from the honey moon,
I was sitting in the car,
You returned a boy,
Left me with my luggage to enter the family home, alone.
...The palm trees rustle in gentle breezes.

Over the years, each day passed,
Each night,
Things slowly changed.
We wrapped each other in love,
Giving all that we had,
In the best way we knew how.
Now it is only a memory,
...The palm trees still rustle in gentle breezes,

And I wonder do they ever think of us?