I can't go back to Bedford,

To the old farm in South Easton

Where my grandfather milked cows

And played baseball for Oakes Ames High.

I can't see the flowing curve 

Of the lush grass around the creek's trickle,

Or where the fence line used to run,

Even in my mind's eye, anymore.

But I still dream of the old house

With the dark windows,

The closet under the stairs,

Where I would hide and read

By only one small candle light

While hearing the coffee percolate 

And smelling the strong aroma.

I hear the clink of the spoon in the cup,

And my grandfather saying,"aaaaahhh,"

Diluting his coffee with a disgruntled sigh

And a dollop of canned milk.

How things had changed in his lifetime!

I remember finding a picture of him,

The pitcher for his baseball team,

And I thought he looked old

To be in high school,

And then, at eighty, I thought he looked young.

So, do you want to break my heart?

Shut up and do it then,

If you can,

My heart was broken a long time ago.

-jenn