Poortown
I grew up in Poortown
A mile down the road
From hard topped streets
Where Miss Eleanor lived
She sat on the front porch
Smoking ready rolled
Eating brought on peaches
And she would hide in back
When she took a dip of snuff
She wore nice dresses
With zippers on the side
And her stockings both
Had seams and no holes
Her shoes were shiny
As a brand new nickel
Miss Eleanor was not poor
And she made it a point
To let everybody know it
She always had a new
Cadillac car to drive
And the sweetest smelling
French perfume…
I was just a boy when she
Called me in her yard one day
Told me how she watched me
In my ragged old overalls
Passing by her gate each day
She asked me how a boy
With no visible means
Could afford to go into town
Most every day and stay
From morning till dusk
She had no understanding
How life really was in Poortown
So I told her best I could
The particulars of my day
How Pa was sick in bed
And my Ma had passed away
I told her I was working for
For the wealthy folk in town
For my dinner and to get my Pa
His medicine he had to have
It felt as though she had
A special kind of glass
That she could use to look
Right on through my lie
Made me feel so small and petty
Then she told me not to go
Into town anymore
But to come to her house
And I would work for her
I show the next morning
To a brand new pair of overalls
And some shiny Brogan shoes
Not new but unlike any I’d ever had
She took me to the back yard
And gave me tasks to do
I worked as hard as I could
Just to make a good impression
Miss Eleanor brought some iced tea
To the settle in the shade
Under the old apple tree
Where we began to talk
All about life and our lot in it
I learned from her and she from me
And when the day was over
And she paid me from her purse
For the work I had done
And not a penny more
She told me plain that the
Money I had earned was mine
And mine alone and if my Pa
Wanted his “medicine” he’d
Have to work for his own
Same as I did for mine
Years passed by and I grew up
Miss Eleanor is gone on now
But she left me all she had
Which to my surprise wasn’t
Very much… You see she believed
That appearances could hide a
Myriad of deficiencies from
Prying eyes, but not the heart
She taught me while appearances
Were important they meant
Little in comparison to character
Honesty and integrity…
So I sit here on the front porch
Smoking ready rolled cigarettes
Enjoying a brought on peach
Watching the endless parade
Of poor and destitute young’uns
I think back to the days
When I would pass by and
Imagine the mystery and beauty
Inside this little stone cottage
And who Miss Eleanor really was…
I like to think when she passed away
That she passed down a little
Of herself to me…
Copyright © W. L. Said | Year Posted 2014
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