Those Old Pines

Christmas is upon us
And my heart remembers
A time in the past
Under those old, old timbers
Up in the mountains of the Nevada Sierras

A young boy was I
So long ago
Laughing and running
Under those Old Pines
No cares did I harbor
In the age of my youth

Christmas vacation at Grandma’s
The scent of pine filled my senses
Climbing Red hill
In two feet of snow
Put a penny on the tracks
Watching the train come and then go

We slid down the mountain
Or so it would seem
And each took our turn on the Tarzan Swing

Drank straight from the well house
Water clear and so cold
I’ve tasted none better
Though now I am old

Made for the house
As fast as we could
Teeth chattering we sat there
To warm by the stove
Just filled with wood

A ham and some bacon
Grandma in the kitchen would cook
Out to the porch on a tattered old bench
Grandpa read from the Good Book

The joy in that house
Is what made life worth living
Gifts, they were great
But it was love they were giving
Many memories are lost to me
Taken by the life I have been living

Those that remain in my heart
True and so Fine
Are of love unconditional
Under those Old Pines

John Pope December 22, 2010