It stood at my kitchen sink, with hot soapy water up past my wrists. Staring out the window in front of me. I felt like I was 110 years old. Two grown kids and 27 years of marriage, my hands looked like something a field hand would have. I am an old woman. Named after my mother; with her eyes staring back at me from the window pane.
My man is carpenter. He’s just another child that’s grown old. Constantly banging on some piece of metal or wood, he built us this home. But Lord only knows that was another lifetime. We seemed to have lost our way, ‘cause once upon a time, if dreams were lighting and thunder-desire this place would have burned down a long time ago.
We have had our good times. Known some bad days when it was almost too hard to go. God I wish I had an Angel flying from Montgomery. Because this believing in living, just for living, is more than I can go. I need me something, something I can hold on to.
I want a poster I can stare into. I want a poster of an old fashion rodeo. Give me an Angel I can hold onto. Take me back to when it wasn’t just so damn long ago. When I was young woman, just leaving my mother, I had me a cowboy. Weren’t much to look at, but he was free and on the go. But that was a long time gone and no matter how I try, those years go flowing past like a broke down damn.
I met my old man, when he wasn’t so old or me so tired. We raised us a family, away from the world and warm from the cold. I love him and I think he likes me. But doing nothing but living for living is killing me.
I need me an Angel flying from Montgomery, I want a poster of an old fashion rodeo. Just give me something I can hold onto, ‘cause this living to live is a hard way to go.
I don’t know how long I stood there staring out the window. When I pulled my hands free from the gray water, they were stone cold. I wiped my hands dry and began putting up the plates, when my man walked through the door.
Holding out a bouquet of Dandelions he said, “Here is something I thought might brighten your day.”
I took them from him and I hugged him from the other side of my heart. He smelled of sawdust, sweat and of himself. I think I surprised him when we made love on the floor.
He held me and talked to me, wiping the moisture from my face, “You’ve been the reason I keep holding on for. You’re the Angel who came to live down here with me. Thank you for our family and thank you for loving me.”
I am an old woman. Named after my mother, my old man is another child that’s grown old. We have other peoples eyes and our own worn out hands. We don’t need an Angel flying from Montgomery. We got each other to hold onto and that’s not such a bad way to go…
-Fin-
DS Baker
My man is carpenter. He’s just another child that’s grown old. Constantly banging on some piece of metal or wood, he built us this home. But Lord only knows that was another lifetime. We seemed to have lost our way, ‘cause once upon a time, if dreams were lighting and thunder-desire this place would have burned down a long time ago.
We have had our good times. Known some bad days when it was almost too hard to go. God I wish I had an Angel flying from Montgomery. Because this believing in living, just for living, is more than I can go. I need me something, something I can hold on to.
I want a poster I can stare into. I want a poster of an old fashion rodeo. Give me an Angel I can hold onto. Take me back to when it wasn’t just so damn long ago. When I was young woman, just leaving my mother, I had me a cowboy. Weren’t much to look at, but he was free and on the go. But that was a long time gone and no matter how I try, those years go flowing past like a broke down damn.
I met my old man, when he wasn’t so old or me so tired. We raised us a family, away from the world and warm from the cold. I love him and I think he likes me. But doing nothing but living for living is killing me.
I need me an Angel flying from Montgomery, I want a poster of an old fashion rodeo. Just give me something I can hold onto, ‘cause this living to live is a hard way to go.
I don’t know how long I stood there staring out the window. When I pulled my hands free from the gray water, they were stone cold. I wiped my hands dry and began putting up the plates, when my man walked through the door.
Holding out a bouquet of Dandelions he said, “Here is something I thought might brighten your day.”
I took them from him and I hugged him from the other side of my heart. He smelled of sawdust, sweat and of himself. I think I surprised him when we made love on the floor.
He held me and talked to me, wiping the moisture from my face, “You’ve been the reason I keep holding on for. You’re the Angel who came to live down here with me. Thank you for our family and thank you for loving me.”
I am an old woman. Named after my mother, my old man is another child that’s grown old. We have other peoples eyes and our own worn out hands. We don’t need an Angel flying from Montgomery. We got each other to hold onto and that’s not such a bad way to go…
-Fin-
DS Baker
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