Monday, February 9, 2015


Long ago when I was young
I lived on Reservoir Hill,
On the family’s forty acres,
Outside of Placerville.

I’ve traveled far and traveled wide,
But few things match the joy,
Of memories of Placerville,
When I was a little boy.

Recollections of the neighborhood,
Of cherished childhood friends,
Youthful adventures long ago,
What joy they bring revisited again.

Innocent romance, holding hands,
Days of carefree bliss,
Palms caressing as we walked,
The naïve delight of a chewing gum scented kiss.
Sweet eternal summers,
And crowding in a car,
For picnics at the river,
Sprawled on the sunny banks of Chili Bar.

Splendid weekend outings,
What happy times we had,
Tenting, campfires, sleeping out,
Horseback rides and fishing trips with Dad.

Weekend excursions to the lake,
Highway 50s passing cars,
Windshield wipers slapping time
To the radio in that ol’ Ford of ours.

Invigorating winters,
The old town all aglow,
The bell tower bedight in strings of light,
And familiar storefronts glistening in the snow.

I’ve traveled on the Yucatan,
Watched  sunsets at Tulum,
Admired the beach at Xela,
And enjoyed a moonlit swim in the lagoon.

I’ve strolled the streets of Edinburgh,
Of Dublin and Quebec.
Climbed Dunn’s Falls in Jamaica,
And gotten mighty wet.

I’ve traveled Canada by rail,
Seen San Francisco’s sights,
Sipped tea at Ghirardelli Square,
And marveled at a sky alive with kites.

Still, no other place enthralls,
No memory more excites,           
Than memories of Placerville,
And Placerville’s delights.

I have no fonder memories,
And probably never will,
Than those cherished childhood memories
Of growing up in good ol, Placerville.


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