Hard Times
Snows caps on the far hills
it's gonna be a hard one.
I drive to town for some lumber,
check out a new generator
old ones on the fritz.
Folks got some winter gear on already.
At the hardware store
slow minded Jack Hawkins gives me a hard time.
I hand him a list of ammo I'll be needing,
some fishing tackle, tar paper and paint -
put it all on store credit.
On the sidewalk
sheriff Harper gave me a sideways look
as he drives on by.
Back at the double-wide
there's chores aplenty waiting.
I wish the old lady was still here,
but she died last winter
after a long year of gut ache.
I miss her niggling ways
and the bed needs her warmth.
At the funeral her sister
glared nails at me all through the service;
she ain’t the forgiving kind.
Bolt down a greasy supper
then catch a face in the cracked wall mirror
an old mug with steel gray eyes.
I wish I could find a question
to ask that feller but I already know
that I'm just hanging on here
not willing yet to give
one god-damn inch.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment