Mountain Memories

Mountain Memories

It wasn’t so much the words that were said,

Or the warmth of the sun falling upon my head.

It wasn’t so much the fatback that was cookin’,

In a kitchen sparsely furnished that kept us lookin’.

The beds were covered with hand-me-down quilts,

That covered each bed that stood on stilts.

Feather-filled pillows plumped ready for sleeping,

Invited us to come, night’s dreams keeping.

It was a time of innocence one now far gone,

Lost in a world where memories now simple songs.

Yet, in the stillness of the late-night hour,

I can hear the words of passion and full of power.

I used to watch and listen as placid scenes unfolded

From early morning’s light, stories were of youngsters scolded.

Of those in the mountains who loved young and old,

Giving all they had if it was needed, they were that bold.

T’was a time of self-sacrifice, killing of one’s soul,

In the mining camps with love to uphold.

So, if the rains come and wash the scenes away,

I’ll keep them in my heart until my final day.

When together with many I’ll thank the divine,

For allowing me to love and live in that time.