A poem.
Image via Wikipedia
I’ve been thinking of some of my fondest memories,
Of my Nana and me on her front porch swing.
Rethinking of how life used to be,
I was but a child, yet we both wore bare feet.
At the age of eight we discussed the future for me,
We laughed and giggled in the summer breeze.
On that wooden swing we talked of the birds and bees,
Not to mention we sipped on the sweetest of southern tea.
I will always remember the words she preached,
And now it’s just me alone left thinking on this old wooden swing.
good write 
Lovely
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