Moutain Echoes II
Dark eyes encircled by coal dust,he, weary, from working the mines
walked over the stark hill to find
his sweet wife, Emeline
lying face down near the
sycamore tree
with baby Caroline
crying, sobbing
for her mother's care
Her mother's care
that just was not there
He ran with a vigor
that he thought wasn't his
He ran to his darling Emeline
his love since 1929
when he married her
on a cold day in November
two years ago today
He remembered
as he picked the dried
Golden Rod along the trail
a gift for his wife, his life
that he found fallen
'neath the sheets
now ghostly
in their appearance
as they flapped aimlessly
in the wild and unforgiving
wailing winds of their
Virginia mountain home
All had gone wrong
and she lay dying
while the baby sit
crying.
And the white sails
unloosened
by the wayward wind
sent the ship tossing
in turbulent seas...
kathy lockhart
9/19/06
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 512 times
Written on 2006-09-20 at 01:35
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