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Sitting quietly,
Sharing the silence,
Exchanging thoughts,
Expressing desires,
Exposing long hidden …

Sitting quietly,
Sharing the moments,
Exchanging vows,
Expressing ideas,
Exposing loving memories.

Sitting quietly,
Sharing the sorrow,
Exhanging hugs,
Expressing love,
Exposing glimpses of our soul.

Sitting quietly loving each other.

Originally written December 28, 1994

Have you seen a couple just sitting holding hands not talking just quietly sitting side by side. They could be looking at a sunset, traffic going by, or just looking at their back yard. I lived in a small village Ahmeek in Keweenaw County in Upper Michigan. It has 5 streets one block long. The village folk were of Finnish, Croatian, and Cornish heritage. I grew up speaking three languages; Finnish Croatian and English. I can still cuss in Finnish and a few other words. They are friendly folks inviting neighbors in for a bowl of soup and bread or to use thesauna. Young folks over age 18 usually go south to Detroit or Milwaukee. So the town is made of middle age and elderly folks. A few of the younger folks come back when they find they cannot stand the big city life.

When I lived there it was not unusual to see couples and families on the porches quietly sitting and watching the hills and possibly the weather coming over the hills. There was a bench in front of the post office where men waited for their friends or wife who was shopping in the small grocery store next door. It was a meeting place. Oh yes, there was also a tavern where the hard rock copper miners came after a day underground to talk to their friends and have shot and a beer. It is a slow-paced life where each moment is treasured.

I guess it is in my blood because I like to sit and watch the sunrise, sunset, stars, or people passing by. Each moment is treasured and stored away in my ribbon of life.

© 2012, Frank. All rights reserved.

Frank (4 Posts)

Through many past lives of USAF, programmer, I/T middle management, Crisis Manager, Global Customer Satisfaction team manager 40 years seemed to fly by. In my current life of grandfather, amateur poet, painter, and spending time wirewrapping semi-precious stones for ladies necklaces.


4 Comments

  1. There is something wonderfully nostalgic and refreshing about this poem, Frank. Innocence is a powerful drug.

  2. Frank (Author)

    Thank you. That is a wonderful compliment. I agree innocence is a very powerful drug.

  3. There’s nothing like sitting on a porch. It seemed. as I grew up, and especially in the South, that every house had a porch. Some were quite small and some wrapped all around, but they all had chairs. Rocking chairs, wicker chairs, wrought iron and wood. No plastic then. Things were real and people were real and we knew our neighbors and everybody kept an eye on everybody’s kids.

    Thanks for the memories, Frank, and thanks for the lovely poem.

    • Melody -thank you. Those were the days houses and cars went unlocked. Days when the milkman came into house and put the milk directly into the icebox/refrigerator. Mmmm. Memories of those special days. Yes we knew all our neighbors by their furst names and they knew us..

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