Posted by: Ron DuBour | August 28, 2014

Childhood Memories…


ann johnson-murphree

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Muddy Water…

Down a rutted country road from my

childhood home five miles or so, the

muddy Flint Creek flowed south

unhurriedly slow.

I could not have been over five or six,

when I walked that road, but never

without carrying a big stick.

I carried that stick with eyes open wide,

cause daddy said, if a rattlesnake bit you…

you might die.

In the summer, I would go there almost

every day skipping and hopping along;

I would jump from that rickety old bridge

into that muddy water; before the sun

went down I would go home.

Daddy never wondered where I had gone,

everyone who crossed that bridge told him

where I was, so you see I was never alone.

When I finally got home, he would just look

at me with a sly grin saying…

“Baby you’d better not let your mama

find out where you been”.

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