Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.16.70.193
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
“I haven’t seen you at all in the town,
never got the chance to talk until now.”
He introduced himself, she did the same,
but he struggled to get more than her name,
of strangers Joanne seemed nothing but down.

Rebuffed in this way, he hemmed and he hawed,
no good way to get to know her he saw,
but Amos was not the type who would quit,
said, “Anything else that I can help with?”
she scoffed, then said, “I’m fine,” her voice quite raw.

With that she left, he felt two feet tall,
wondered why he was doing this at all,
but later in town saw clothes he helped wash
hanging from lines, she washed clothing for cost,
eked out a living washing shirts and shawls.

After that, on days when out on his boat,
he’d see he washing, and over would go,
she’d just shake her head, but not send him off,
held back from telling Amos to get lost,
she had few friends left, by loss was laid low.

When several weeks passed she finally said,
“Young man whatever goes on in your head?
To spend your free time scrubbing like a fool,
Is this all to mock me? Art thou being cruel?
When none can be sure my husband is dead?”

Amos looked shocked, said, “You’re not a widow?
I wouldn’t have come here if I had known.
I’d been told in town your husband had passed,
I do not steal wives, I am not like that!”
But then Joanne motioned him just to slow.

“My late husband vanished six long years back,
to hunt the north woods, none have found his track.
It’s plain to me that he will not return,
but his father is our preacher, you’ll learn,
and he refuses to accept this fact.

“Worse still, all this land that I’m living on,
is his property, to him it belongs,
and says if I betray my husband’s trust,
he will throw me out, and I will be lost,
I have no money, and my family’s gone.

“So much as I’d love to hear a man’s voice,
I’m trapped, and left with very little choice.
knowing my in-laws, by the time they die,
I’ll be much too old to catch a man’s eyes,
much less give him any bouncing girls or boys.

“If I marry then he’ll ensure I’m deplored,
forgetting my husband, just a base whore,
Preacher John has sway over most of town,
if he smears me, how would I live it down?
Or show my face in public anymore?”

Amos thought and frowned about what he’d heard,
the whole thing came off as truly absurd,
to not let a widow marry again?
To not let her seek a providing man?
Could a preacher want to inflict such hurt?

CONTINUES IN PART III.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required