Tin Can Serenade

Two homes in the mountains
Snowed in for winter’s keep;
A river in between them,
A rope tight o’er the deep.

A mother and her daughter,
A father and his son,
A cottage and a cabin,
A story yet unspun

But time did freeze a tin can
Dangling from that rope
A messenger from days gone by,
Echoing long lost hope.

Until a cold November day
Saw decades fall away;
Young hands inscribed a folded scrap,
A missive sent to say…
_________________

So begins the plucky correspondence of Timothy and Genevieve, two children ...