A paintbrush of memories, followed by a bucket of tears, came from good times and hardships, through all sixty plus years. Nothing but the breeze in the summer, wood stove when it's cold, climbing tree in the front yard, there stood a rose by the road.
Favorite iron in the oven, love as deep as a waters well, she hangs linen on the line or removes green beans from their shells. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, cooked everyday at certain times, can't find her in the attic, look out by the blackberry vine.
Being a man of many tools, locked up tight inside his shed, worked hours around the clock, to make sure his family was fed. His diamond of a smile, smelling of prince and half and half, a love as deep as any ocean, we'll never forget that laugh.
With a paintbrush of memories, followed by a bucket of tears, filled the house they built still standing tall, after all these years. These two angels he gave us, with a love that never got old, stood a house full of memories, her rose by the road.
©kylelee
K