PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Feet sore from the slip-on canvas shoes.

All the walking is another murder to the soles.

I wrap my sweater tighter around me.

One doctor all ready said I could use another

thirty pounds.

What he doesn't know is that I eat the cow and

chicken then chase the pig.

I take a left, by passing the paved road.

Feeling all the pebbles and stones through the

thin rubber soles.

I notice eyes are on me.

It isn't time for Ho'Buck camp grounds to be full.

I stop by the fence, keeping the horse in the field.

Stroking the horse's snout, I say hello.

It bobs its head and I smile.

I say goodbye friend.

Turning away, stumbling through more pot holes.

Stumble on the uneven road, out of my damnation.

I have a boy who calls me dad.