Saturday, January 24, 2015


By Beatrice M. Hanson

I have a cottage painted white,
To give me shelter from the night,
I own an acreage of land with
Rich black soil over golden sand.
I’ve cleared a garden plot for flowers,
To tend, in my leisure hours.
The maple spreads its pleasant shade,
For protection during the sunny days.
Soft breezes carry fragrant smells,
Of apple- blossom, lilac, and roses
Wondering where they will.
Of honey-suckle twisting above the door,
Or the aroma of grass cut the day before.
I trot a grandchild on each knee,
Who love to “roam the ranch” with me.
I own a dog - black, brown and fawn.
A pipe to smoke, the evening paper to rely on.
I’m blessed with innocence of mind,
That lets me sleep from nine to nine.
I think I’m the richest man alive,
To have so much at sixty-five.