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When I chance to go afield
to harvest the wild places' yield
of the myriad sights and sounds
which in this sylvan spot abounds

Matters not how far I stray
once it comes the end of day
like an old trained milking cow
I know where I must head to now

To the warm hearth of my home
at the finish of the long day's roam
and the ever young girl I call wife
with whom I've shared most of my life

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Editing stage: 


No wood here in this poem? Just kidding. But the raw truth is that I really appreciate this attempt very much, but if I had written this piece, my last line would be "To whom I dedicated all my life."
I don't know, but this is just me.

Come now, not all I write is wooded lol. I've given your idea on last line a bit of thought. It seems it would make our life together a bit too much of a one way feel. But I really do appreciate the suggestion and encourage more from you.............stan

author comment

No need worry about offending. Were I hesitant to accept ideas I would not have punched"raw truth" lol. I'll post something soon which you'll have no trouble finding fault (even if I do so by accident).............stan

author comment

a simply lovely write
love and hugs

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

Thank you ror the read and kind remark.............stan

author comment

Thank you...........................stan

author comment
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