Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.17.156.98

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

THE LOST WAGON TRAIN


Last fall, hurriedly clearing the attic,
We were packing lots of books and crocks 
For the church rummage sale frantic.
My son grabbed  a book from one box,
And threw it on the heap marked  “low priced stocks”

Cowboy book, hardback with  title unheard.
It was a small novel,  really  cheap  you’d say,
With some  handwritten  word
On the home-made  dust cover  gray:
THE LOST WAGON TRAIN  by  Zane Grey. 

I said no, son, gimme that please  - that stays with me.
But dad, it’s only a Zane Grey book. 
Son,   its  gran’s  handwriting  don’t you  see?
The dust cover was made by my mother  -  look.
. . . . . And when she went,  it’s just about all I took.

He gently blew the dust off,  and gave me it clean. 
I had mislaid  it and never would have guessed.
Time stood still : it seemed only yesterday I had seen
Her write it  -  she loved Zane Grey stories about the West. 
And I realized how much I loved cowboy movies best.

C’mon dad, he whispered,  I  ought
To  get this stuff packed quick and on the road myself, 
Seeing me daydreaming  in deep thought. 
I went and put it where it belonged  itself, 
On our living room ‘s central bookshelf.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Written   for   Paula  Swanson’s Contest    “Yard Sale”

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required