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Banjo PickingBanjo picking on the front porch I smile at you this way. I love to hear you pick away while I am sitting near. You have no way of knowing the way you make me feel. You bring a song into my heart that comes out in a smile. You bring back memories of when I was young. Listening to the radio while mommy cooked on the old wood stove. Times were hard, or so they said But you never would have known by Look on Mommy's face. Busy all day long she was washing clothes and such. To make a home for all us kids and that is what she did. Oh to go back for just one day to see her and remember when. Our lives today would not seem so bad if we could just return to then. 2/23/08 Judy Lindsey Vote for this poem
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