THE BOY FROM BANFF- Bye Worzel

I will write tonight of my Garnet Odd, (Whom I met at the library) now devoted life’s partner… He oft said of Godfrey, over stories the two of you cried till you laughed. And I at my desk, engrossed in the paper, or my endless collection of stamps ..In the Library foyer we met years ago,met him long ago, my boy from Banff.

Before the wide highway,buckskin pack horse and the big grey pony, picked their sure-footed way cross the alpine meadows in summer. They “snecked” in for winter, the dark and big snow. He learned the guitar on his own by the wood fires glow. Twas the music he followed as he wandered from home, as a “transient youth” of that era was known. His golden hair tied back with an old leather thong, the library atrium echoed his song, of a place that he knew, of the horses he’d raise big and strong, out where the short grass grew, the Cypress Hills grass.

I cried till I laughed, on the day I married this strong, quiet boy from Banff. Time has been kind, in body and mind, to us and the life we still share. On Sundays I coax him to pick out the notes of the old songs for me. He plays his guitar and sings in my turquoise chair…and we cry till we laugh over growing old, life has gone so fast, for me and my boy from Banff..

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