Born Dirt Poor Happy
Mason jar baby bottle
Pressing lips with love
Cotton apron my blanket
With flour sack pillow
Remembering that old porch
Big night sky shining
Stars seemed brighter then
To that little boy
Ma and Pa's laughter
Echoing from the cabin
Only security I needed
Hope alive in them
Now this man sits
Surrounded by mother's dreams
Things wanted for me
Compassion my greatest possession
Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved
"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."
© 2014 Robert William Gruhn
Copyright © Robert Gruhn | Year Posted 2014
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