Rain tapping melodies
on an old tin roof
soothes my slumber
reminding me of my
grandmother’s house
smelling of apple pie
and my grandfather’s pipe,
granny’s teeth in a glass of water
by the bed that witnessed the
birth of six sons under the
old tin roof that sang
melodies of raining drummed songs.
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Really loved this!! Awesome, My Dear!!!
xoxo
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That makes me very happy. hugs, pat
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