Small Town
In the fifties, I was a child of six
we moved to a small town in what some might
tauntingly call, the middle of the sticks.
A picturesque Montana town so small,
it was growing into its big boy shoes,
I remember it as the best of all.
My mother worked in a fountain - Norm’s News,
right on the main street of that little town.
She earned fifty-cents an hour and the blues.
Time and fate has taken me to places
with crowds, big, cluttered and filled with change.
You may live a lifetime with strange faces.
A cyber-voice told me they lived in my
same town, Kalispell, and had just been to
to Norm’s News just this May, last month , gone by.
A warmth crept over me and brought tears down.
Think, it is still there after all this time,
while here everything is changing around.
Constant ebb and flow of society
leaves us feeling impermanent as dust.
Maybe small towns are just the thing for me.
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