Hills and Hollers

Hills And Hollers.
Old Dog Collars.
Is All He Has, From His Youth.
Pelts From Some Skunk.
Rusted Farm Trucks.
That's All He Sees, In His View.

Old Cream Can, At The End Of The Drive,
That Holds His Mail Box.
Once In A While, Someone Will Stop By,
To Ask About, His Ole Pet Fox.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace