My folks have been grinning for eighty years
as they exit the church arm and arm
without a clue to the future after the war
where he commanded a battalion
of teen-age southern boys
to become bait for the Bulge
without their knowing.
My father farmed for his father,
raised oranges, grapes, and cattle,
and she three kids: boy scouts,
dance classes, trumpet lessons—
more than she really wanted.
And there they are
as I exit from the shower
still grinning without a clue.
drycrikjournal 
would be so great to have this photo and this poem side-by-side at CACHE.
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Definitely a keeper. What a wonderful image to start the day with. Keep smiling. None of us knows what the future will bring, but every one of us can bring it some light. And some can bring it poetry! Many thanks for yours.
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