An old country roads extending before me, before her
Leaves scatter with the chatter of October.
She and Grandpa would go into town
The sky hung above, a blanket of clouds.
And I went down to the waterfront
I saw a Punch N Judy show
Little Sis has a Sarsaparilla
And I had a Pumpkin ice cream cone.
Her birthday was just around the corner, not more than a week --
And coincidentally she sound a skeleton key.
She could ignore the footsteps in the attic for the day
And Grandma would bake her a cake.
We watched the field of wheat swagger
We chased mother with jovial laughter.
A Sarsaparilla for whatever may be in the attic up there
A Sarsaparilla still waits for my Sister at the foot of the stairs.
A journey to that cobwebbed place, dense with folklore
4 and 20 Sarsaparilla bottles littered the floor.
And an antiquated mirror shimmering somehow in the lightlessness
And there within its reflective gaze I swore I saw her face.
