Only Memory

I am left with only memory I creep into the day past landscapes of home I still can hear the squeak of a wooden farmhouse floor I still can hear the voices this time of year in autumn I cannot wait to get outdoors the air is crisp and cool the muted colors of fall blanket the hills with images the woods are like a magnet within the shadowed copse the animals prepare for winter donning their thick fur coats I know that we are ready the harvest is stored the jars are on the pantry shelf so it is as I grow old the lessons were so simple yet hard to fulfill memory brings them back all that matters is history all that ever mattered is there