Farmhouse Memories: A Childhood Etched in Time

By Preeti / April 4, 2025

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Farmhouse in Provence (1888) by Vincent Van Gogh

It’s 4 AM, and I stir in my bed,

Hearing cowbells chime as the herd is led.

The wooden wheel grinds on rammed earth slow,

A lullaby soft, in the morning’s glow.

Birds start chirping, the world comes awake,

A hum of voices, as dawn starts to break.

Pots and pans clang in a rhythmic song,

Welcoming daylight, steady and strong.

The sun climbs high with a golden grin,

Urging adventure to now begin.

A free bird soars in the boundless blue,

Winds whisper secrets the trees once knew.

Afternoons fade within the stuccoed grace,

Cool and quiet—a dreamlike space.

Then night unfolds in a starlit sky,

With laughter and whispers before we go awry.

A clap of thunder booming and grand,

Like gods in council, making their stand.

The rain crashes on terracotta tiles,

Drenching the courtyard, heat reconciled.

The dust is washed, the air feels new,

The plants and my soul, a fresher hue.

These moments etched, so wild, so free

My farmhouse childhood, still lives in me.