Red Scarf: Red, the scarf A scarf on the sidewalk It was her favorite one Soaked ‘n’ wet it lies alone For no one picked it up Nor cared that it was there She did not know it lost Nor what it had cost She loved it most She’d often boast “From mother it came”! Hand wove in red yarn Inscribed on one side her name “Don’t lose this scarf,” Mom warned “For it will keep you warm” The Hill: Up the hill we climbed, my grandson and me. Sometimes we’d fall, sometimes we’d slide Onward we trod on all fours, sometimes on twos Higher and higher daring not to look down, All we could hear was our breathing sound And the falling gravel beneath us around. We got to the top we turned to stop Looking to see how far we had climbed While holding on to small limbs and vines. We came up high, our own free will Not ceasing until we conquered the hill. I was a mere sixty while he was only six But, each generation performed very well I being the oldest as far as he could tell He being the youngest from the dell I thought he put it in words so swell. the voice: Poetry on the Move: 8