Yes Frank, I remember you and your wife.
Here's a poem I wrote that tells the story of my life with a bow. The problem is every year as I age I have to update the last verse.
"A BOY'S DREAM, A MAN'S LIFE"
The bow and arrow spoke to me when I was five years old, It said, come play with me young lad if you should be so bold.
The singing string and whispering shaft was music to my soul, I knew it was a part of me when I was twelve years old.
The bow was small for a lad so tall as I grew so long and lean. A new bow I sought, and finely bought, when I turned sixteen.
The years they flew and at twenty two a bow for the bride I took. Together we hunted for whitetail deer from our camp by a babbling brook.
Soon a little bow hung along side the bows of mom and dad. Then another,.. and still another,.. three little bowmen we finely had.
As time went by the children grew, then Grand children came along. Once again, the longbow sang it's captivating song.
This new generation was soon to learn the wonders of the stick and string. They watched as Grandpa showed them the joy the bow could bring.
No one can count the arrows that this old man has sent to flight. Someday I'll shoot my very last shaft into the murky night.
But now there's great grand children to teach while there still is time. This old man, still loves his bow at the age of seventy nine.
TO BE CONTINUED
Topic: 60 years a Bow Hunter (Read 883 times)
