Butternut Bridge
The Butternut Bridge
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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Missing notes of jingling swings; I wait … to … hear.
Sounds of you … are whispering in my ear.
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Words and Music By
Kelly S Griswold