BITTERSWEET
(Ballad-form)

My early fife was short on frills
constrained by meager means
but every day presented thrills
delights unknown, pristine

The countryside held fields and creeks
and woodlands to explore,
dark rocky caves and modest peaks,
and mysteries galore.

A small-town boy, my cup was full
as I was growing up,
with country fairs and taffy pulls
and tabby cats and pups.

Sherm's ice cream store, the Waffle Shop
no Walmart yet in sight,
the Ninth Street fruit and veggie shop,
no ugly urban blight

On weekend nights the courthouse square
would fill with strolling folks;
young parents and their kids were there,
and farmers telling jokes

In autum, trees turned red and gold,
their leaves soon fluttered down;
then winter's hand, grown stiff with cold,
would dole out snowy crowns.

I speak of truly magic times
as tears anoint my pen.
of other places, other climes
I'll never see again.

Emery L. Campbell
Lawrenceville, GA.