Butternut Bridge

The Butternut Bridge

It’s just a hop and a skip and a jump, across the Butternut bridge.
The winter wood-bird coos, a lovers song.
The fire is cracklin, warm … so come on over …
You know my love, that it has been too long.

The wind across the meadow, is open wider …
The bridge is calling you, to come on home.
I hear the copper teapot, gently, whistling down.
Come on in … before it gets too cold.

The lonesome night air gives and gives, forever …
The texture of sweet smoke, is in my eye.
The taste of yesteryear, brings out the spices,
of perfectly pleasing, plum pies, piled high.

The screen door slapping time, with loosened wing nuts.
Sounds that we once knew, my friend, so dear.
Missing notes of jingling swings; I … wait … to … hear.
Sounds of you … the porch light near.

Missing notes of jingling swings; I wait … to … hear.
Sounds of you … are whispering in my ear.

Words and Music By
Kelly S Griswold

Leave a Reply