Ken Allan Dronsfield

Porch swing moves in rhythm
with gentle southern breezes.
Floorboards noisily creaking
while rocking chairs dance.

The smells of honeysuckle
and Granny´s fried chicken
wafting through the fields
of peanut, cotton and okra.

Fond memories return of
Sunday´s after-the-service.
Friends and peach cobbler,
end the day as twilight calls.

Ducks fly by heading west,
into a tangerine colored sky.
Remembering warmer days
as the Spanish Moss sways

in gentle southern breezes
cooler nights in a haunted fog
chasing frogs in the old creek
cat fishing at the old town pond.

Sweet southern times reign as
do walks in old town Savannah
haunting, timeless remembrance
as memories in a Georgia heart.