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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448849" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Virgin Ground</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He was the neighbor boy<br>and I, the city girl<br>banished to the countryside<br>to the grandparents, <br>to learn hard work<br>on the dairy-farm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rumbling train after the long flight, <br>jumbled my brain; <br>everything outside that train window<br>bumped along; <br>seemed jumbled isolated, <br>alien; and I felt alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I sat next to an older woman<br>who without looking whispered<br>see the pretty cow? <br> <br>Her grandchild came<br>from the bathroom late—<br>a case of identity mistaken.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>A pickup truck ride later<br>we were there; <br>Old barn but a beautiful house.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grandpa is sitting beside me<br>smelling earthy, <br>gasoline and fresh dirt; <br>spelling out to me<br>all the summer chores<br>and those which would be mine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, he would help, <br>and show me<br>how to milk the cows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grandma’s living room was a doily museum, <br>white starched flower blooms<br>under lamps<br>some with coasters inside<br>one with a flower vase.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This was grandpas and grandmas.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My room was all gingham and florals, <br>muted pinks, greens and reds-<br>the one Susie had; <br>all her things preserved there; <br>and I ran my finger across some<br>of them<br>imagining when she touched them last; <br>waiting for grandma to close the door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was a 4-H photo of Susie and a dairy cow; <br>a cheerleader’s outfit in the closet; <br>a boy and her<br>with prom roses at the front door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hug my clothes in the closet slowly<br>because some of hers were still there, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">and I dropped my tennis bracelet<br>on the closet floor<br>to discover<br>a loose board there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I pried at it to see <br>a shoe box barely visible in the dark.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I froze<br>listening close<br>to see<br>if anyone would be coming up; <br>took my nail file and finished<br>the excavation work; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">holding at last in my hand something whose<br>contents I had<br>already imagined in my mind <br>about what was in Susie’s treasure box, <br>forgotten there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Easy open; letters wrapped with red ribbon; <br>jewelry; a photo and other things yet unidentified.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I read around the ribbon<br>to see some letters<br>had stamps and had been mailed<br>others had not-<br>written but unmailed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I opened one<br>and began to read.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“You are my Virgin Spring; <br>my Thomas flower blooming; <br>and I am Virgin Ground”.<br> <br>Struck, should I read on<br>or close the letter<br>and put back<br>the shoe box top? <br> <br>Whose innocence lay there?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lonnie+Hicks">Lonnie Hicks</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448849" data-title="Virgin Ground de Lonnie Hicks" data-description="He was the neighbor boy
and I, the city girl
banished to the countryside
to the grandparents, 
to learn hard work
on the dairy-farm.

The rumbling train after the long flight, 
jumbled my brain; 
everything outside that train window
bumped along; ..."></div>
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