HavenHavenStraight down the street in the sharp of bend,Nestled in, backsnugUp against the woodFacing straight out up the road,Before it turns on past, to leave you there.You stand serene against the woods land,Back covered you sit in the corner, settled in.Two stories riseAgainst woods rising higher still.As though born of Earth herself,Sheltered here under oak-You belong.Back from the road, the curve, you stand, in quiet welcome.Resting in your nook,Mossy hard acorn strewn,The land opens before you Like an apron spread out by hand.Come, come, here is quiet, peace and still.You are home. I am yours and
MarieMarieBlack haired blue eyed angelCome to us but for awhile.Mama said you were too sweetAnd beautiful, just too fair by far.She loved you wellOf that Im sure.I heard her talk of you but once,But that was enough.Ill not forget.Sitting on that cold concrete porchAmongst women past my tender years, That hot summer day,I heard her speak of you that once.How shed always said you were too beautiful,Her beautiful blue eyed black haired baby girl.She did not speak of any detailsNor did she talk for long,But you could hear the painIn what she did and did not say.I could, in horror, fill in the g
I Come From Mountain PeopleI Come From Mountain PeopleI come from mountain peopleThough its hard to tell just by lookin.There lies a taint of mountain in my soulThough lived all my years, minus 3,I have, among the clearly civilized.Though blessed I was (except those 3)With the breath of mountain and her old folk,Only 6 times each year of my growing days.Still, it laid a stain upon my heart, with indelible ink.I know from whence and whom I comeThough I hold not always true, to the legacy there.Honest, they were, kind, strong and trueA different century - even this oneWhite trash by some theyd have been called.Dirt poor coal