Jacob sat down on the gray weathered wood porch step, and with his big toe, he drew in the red clay dust of the road in front of the old shack. The hot summer breeze blew around him, also bending the tall grasses across the field. Behind him a soft voice from the screen door asked "Ya going up to the kitchen house?"
Jacob turned to his little sister Sally. "Yes" he said.
"Will you sneak me one dem biscuits?"
"You know I would get in trouble, Sally."
Sally twisted her braid, "But I am so hungry."
"Okay, I will try."
Jacob stood and slowly made his way up the path to the kitchen house....

Tom Loss

By Richard S. B. Smith

I stand by and watch my dear friend Tom go through so much grief.

Oh the pain the hours the mins go by as the Grandfather clock ticks away

Glasses on and open book resting in a fan back chair.

12 foot ceilings  with floor to ceiling books but still the room closes in

Worn rugs and empty mirriors a silence fills the room so alone

Walking from room to room dark corners

In his mind he thinks about days gone by and it seems like yesterday when they met.

53 years and he loves her as much today as he did the first day  they met.

He holds her hand  shaking a tear runs down his face

I am here i am here he says with a smile

Your not alone its okay

the lines of his 84 year old face tell many stories

love love like no other if his life could have been a movie

Another cry of pain its okay I am here

A gentle breeze blows the living room drapes a passing car going down the street

The white marble steps and brick rowhome walls hold the sound of tears inside

Family stands at her bedside they are all here we know its okay

Your not alone

he tightens his grip but you feel her hand slipping away

She is gone he sits a hand rest on his back

See theres no more pain

He brushes her hair from her forehead and kisses her

I love you I trulely love you

The family helps him to chair in the front window of the living room

He holds a book up to heart  and says 53 years I loved her today as it was the first time we met

Time stands still only for a moment but love goes on forever...........

WHERE ARE MY WORDS?

By Richard S. B. Smith

I look at my hands

I look at my pens

I look at my paper

Then i ask where are my words?

I look out the window and down through the woods

Are my words there?

i turn the cat are curled in a ball

Have you seen my words no not at all

i step into the garden and and breath deep

I ask the passing bee

Have you seen my words?

With a buzz and a hum he hovers in and out around the flower tops but no words

has he heard.

Down the garden path to the lily pad cover pond

Have you seen my words

I ask the croaking frog

With a splash he is gone not a word at all

So back to the house back to my room 

Back to my table a paper lay

A pen at rest

I look with a grin

There are my words I have written again!