Snapshots : LUSENET : FRL friends : One Thread

The leaves had early fallen from the big sweetgum tree, and the old straight-back chair sat in a tiny patch of late afternoon sunlight that the bare limbs could not deny. It was the last of it's lineage; a wedding present of four, with their little table, almost fifty years past. Upon it's legs were the scuffs and scars of six children a-rearing. It's joints were all loose, and the cane seat was tattered and stained.

It's legs remembered the toddler who teethed on them upon the warm kitchen floor. The ladder-rungs of it's back recalled the touch of the silk brocade on the dresses when the girls, grown to brides, posed there for wedding pictures, the ebony glow of their faces shining among the white folds of cloth.

The sagging seat had twice been repaired with green twine by the old man; good enough to hold the weight of one end of the pine coffin where they laid him on a grey winter's evening. And good enough to hold the weight of the old woman, when she comes out to sit in pea-shelling time. Perhaps her hands will touch the tooth marks, perhaps her skin, now as dark and smooth as the mahogany itself, will too, recall the rustle of lace. Perhaps, she will call back all the memories, just for a moment, swirling about her like long-ago children, laughing among the fallen leaves in afternoon sun.


Down here where the land falls away towards the river, there are no plastic flowers. No manicured hedges, no fancy wrought-iron fences. Here, in the bottom of the field stand the old stones. Their faces are mottled with the grey of age, their bases crumbling with dampness.

Down here, no one still comes on autumn afternoons to run their fingers over the letters of a long-ago namesake. No one kneels to hear the whisper of grass, to gather in hand a caress of soil. Tears of anguish have long dried upon the stones, cries of grief have long ceased to echo among the bare limbs of ancient trees.

I sit beside a tiny stone and place my hand on the little lamb carved above the words, Beloved Son.

The wind comes up from the water and carries the sound of a young couple, like me, stealing away here for the solitude. They walk hand in hand, and their laughter rattles among the forgotten stones.


Mark not the spot where you lay me deep

Set no stone upon my head

In the bottom land let me sleep

Where wild grass grows and lovers tread.


-- Lon Frank (, November 12, 2000


HELP, Kritter!

I do not know why the forum software suddenly started putting in ' whenever I put an apostrophy, but maybe you could fix it? Please? It will not make it any better, but maybe easier to read. thanks

(taken care of Lon - kritt) ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------

-- Lon Frank (, November 12, 2000.

Thank you for thoughts... they're helpful rright now.

-- Robert A. Cook, PE (Marietta, GA) (, November 13, 2000.


Your pictures were beatifully written, and experienced. Thank you.

-- Aunt Bee (, November 13, 2000.

Wow, Lon!

That's beautiful, if somber... I'm gonna assume that it was my birthday present :-) Thank-you!

Glad to see you made it home safely... hope to see you again here before too long.

-- Tricia the Canuck (, November 13, 2000.

Thanks Lon, for the pictures you painted in my mind. They are a testament to the excellent quality of your writing.

The place I found that had the most color this fall was the local cemetery. The trees were breath-taking and the solitude welcome.

My guess about the rectangles that appeared in your post are because you typed the snapshots first in Word or some other format? Sometimes they read symbols differently when crossing over.

Tricia, are you having another birthday? Wow! Time flies and YOU'RE getting old! ;-) Better find SOB quick!

-- Gayla (, November 14, 2000.

Thanks Gayla, and everyone. Yeah, I figured it out, about the boxes when I typed my next post. If you use another application to compose and spell check, you must re-type the apostrophies in the answer box, after cutting and pasting. Oh, and thanks to whoever fixed it for me.

BTW, isn't it just too bad about Trish? Some folks seem to age before our very eyes. (Oh, come on sweetie, you know I'm just joshin' ya. Why, you don't look a day older than you did this time last millinum.)



-- Lon Frank (, November 14, 2000.

:-P, Lon!

I'll have you know I wasn't born yet last millenium. I have it from a very reliable source, that the millenium actually starts January 01, 2001. So nyah!

And how old did I say I was??? ;-)

Where is that SOBob when I need him?

-- Tricia the Canuck (, November 15, 2000.

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