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This sonnet is a reflection of the happy days so long ago, when we surreptitiously (or so we thought) parked across the street from our new home. Filled with anticipation that soon we’d be living in our house, we sat in our Chevy Impala, eating buttered rolls and sipping coffee, planning our life. Then we’d venture out for a walk, acclimating ourselves to our new neighborhood. That was when we found Gregory’s Pond. Forty years have passed. Our children are grown with families and homes of their own, we are still living here in our house, and Gregory’s Pond is still our favorite place to walk.

Each Sunday after Mass, we parked
across the street to gaze at our abode,
The place we’d build our lives and feed our hearts
So, on those morns, across the hills we rode.

And seeming inconspicuous, we strode
with purpose, but with steps oft lingering
on front walk, putting on our ‘neighbor’ mode,
As if belonging in the folksy scene.

Around the corner, water cools the green,
We spied a pond where soon we take our walks,
Just two weeks more and we’d fulfill the dream,
And decades hence, enjoy our hearthside talks.

The pond and we have changed, this earth revolves,
Yet, stronger still, our heartstrings ne’er dissolve.

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Photo Friday: Landscape, 2015

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