Sons of Thunder

The Sons of Thunder

 

There were early warning signs that violence was on the way.  The two boys were untamed, unfettered, and usually unsupervised.  Their mother had disappeared mysteriously, leaving her husband alone with three children. The father refused any help from the community, insisting that the family would work out their own problems.  Alicia, the beautiful eldest child, reportedly kept the house running smoothly.  She and the boys, James and John, were always clean, fed, and well dressed. Their father, known to drink a bit but not to excess, paid the bills and saved money. Although the father was gone frequently and sometimes for long periods of time there wasn’t anything specifically anyone could point a finger at, yet we all knew there was danger lurking behind the façade.

Alicia never went on dates, although at sixteen she caught the eye of every eligible male in the surrounding areas.  Frankly, they were afraid to ask her out.  Her dad made it a point to seek out prospective suitors and let them know their lives were in danger around his house or around his daughter.  Alicia meekly followed orders, kept the house immaculate, and maintained her straight A average in high school.

John, the middle child, had an explosive temper that occurred with increasing frequency. Often I would confront him in school about some infraction and his face would become contorted with rage.  His voice would shake and obscenities would pour out. Sometimes I asked him to walk around the schoolyard in an effort to cool his anger.  I would watch him pick up a stick, point it at me, and pretend to shoot.  Since I knew he hunted the fields around the school and around my house it was reason for concern.  I knew he would seethe for hours until his anger finally abated.  John was also very intelligent.  He did well in his school subjects and also stayed informed about world politics. He had great plans for his future but I worried about his bouts of anger and how that anger controlled him at times.

John and James were unwelcome in neighboring homes because of their destructive hunting forays and their penchant for breaking things just for fun.  One day they followed their dog down the road and into the driveway of a neighbor’s house.  The dog chased chickens while the boys whooped their support.  Finally the neighbor stepped out of his house.  “You boys go home. I don’t want anything killing my chickens.”  The boys didn’t listen.  Instead they entered the barn and began breaking windows while the dog continued his relentless pursuit of squawking chickens.  The neighbor stepped out of his house onto his front porch, holding a shot-gun.  “Please take your dog home.  He doesn’t belong here. You go home, too!”  “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” 

The boys left, only to return a short time later with their dad.  He had two six shooters strapped to his sides, gunfighter style.  He confronted the neighbor.  “If you want to have a shoot-out, then let’s get to it.”  The neighbor backed down, uneasy about an altercation with a crazy man.  And so it went, from that moment the community shied away from any arguments with the dad.

The family business was another strange thing that was rarely discussed.  The dad made caskets.  The boys often bragged about their personal coffins, made from the finest materials and ready to be used. “You should see the polished wood and the blue silk.”  “When I die, dad will make mine even better,” the other replied.

James was known for his antics, his infectious smile, and his sudden angelic appearance.  He could be deeply in trouble and yet somehow escape unscathed.  Once, as a fifth grader, he had been caught peeping over a stall in the girl’s bathroom.  He received no punishment because he was so sorry it had ever happened.

One day in spring, after the fire at Christmas had burned the school totally, and we were in school at the church, a strange thing happened.  On this rare day James was sitting quietly in class trying to decipher the big words.  The teacher,  however, could not focus on the lesson.  “I’m sorry,” she said, “but there’s something that really stinks around here.”  She walked from chair to chair but to no avail.  She eventually walked to the closet.  “I think something died in there,” she announced to the class. She flung open the door and peered in, holding her nose.  The children’s coats were hung on pegs, waiting to be picked up.  The teacher went from coat to coat, sniffing and coughing.  She stopped at James’s coat.  “This coat stinks,” she said.  “What is the problem?”  James laughed.  “I slept with my dog in the bed last night,” he proclaimed.  “A skunk had sprayed it.  My dog was still scared so I hugged it all night.”

James was the center of the universe at times.  He could not read any words with more than four letters.  The principal proudly proclaimed he taught James to read.  Later, when James was discovered memorizing the lessons ahead, the principal was deflated and gave up.  He turned the task over to a young teacher who decided James was a worthy project.  For several weeks she toiled and James struggled onward. The reading project seemed a success until one day after school the woman turned her back on James.  He quickly closed the distance between them, reached around and cupped her breasts.  She was horrified and fled to the principal.  “What are you going to do about it?” she demanded angrily.  “You shouldn’t have been alone with him,” the principal snapped.  The conversation was over.  James and the reading lessons were over, but James continued on, oblivious to the fact that anything was wrong. 

In the eighth grade and in high school James proved to be outstanding in sports.  Grades were overlooked as long as James tried.  There were occasions when those in the stands were pleasantly surprised by his adroit moves and quickness.  There were also occasions when those same people were shocked by his ability to get confused.  When he got turned around he might run the wrong way in football or make the winning basket for the wrong team in basketball.  Yes, James was something of an enigma.

We didn’t hear much about Alicia after she graduated from high school.  The boys said she went to college but we didn’t know where.  And John?  He graduated from high school and drifted northward, working one job after another.  Later we heard he had been arrested in Seattle for armed robbery and would be locked away for awhile.  And James?  I had forgotten about James until one night at eleven o’clock I was awakened by the persistent ring of my phone.  I picked it up and was greeted by a familiar voice.  “Mr. Roberson, remember me?  This is James and I just called to thank you for all you did for me.  You didn’t give up and eventually you got me to reading.  I’m now a lumberjack in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.  I volunteer at a local elementary school when I can.   I just wanted to thank you but I don’t want to keep you up.  Good-bye!”  And with that James was gone, but definitely not forgotten.  He was one of the more difficult students who had learning disabilities and social problems and somehow had managed to rise out of the murky depths. He had taken the next step and was reaching out to others and giving them a chance to succeed.  His persistence also woke me up.

 Sometimes I forgot that school was more than teaching subject matter.  It was about touching human lives.  I slept easier that night and for many nights to follow because I had made a difference in his life. James didn’t give me a chance to tell him, but he also had made a difference in how I perceived things.  I must have done something right, and to this day I still believe I can touch that invisible spirit, and bring it to a higher level.  Thanks, James, wherever you are, for giving me feedback.

 

By Dan Roberson  2/26/09

Choppin’ Cotton

Choppin’ Cotton

 

 

A chance for self-respect comes but a few times during a lifetime and I have to seize those moments and choose the way I want to be. Once that decision is stamped indelibly on my heart, there is no turning back, nor would I ever want to change. Long ago as a teenager I made one of those decisions that shaped my life.

Shivering ever so slightly I slid out of bed and pulled on my faded work jeans. At 4:30 in the morning the irrigated desert land’s air was crisp and cold even in my room. I pulled my arms through the blue cotton shirt which earlier had been lying limply across the foot of the bed. After tightly lacing my cracked black shoes I stuffed my work gloves into my hip pocket and placed the straw hat with the torn brim rakishly on my head. I tied a handkerchief loosely around my neck.

Stumbling into the kitchen I reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bowl. I didn’t have time to make breakfast so my choice was made. Cold cereal in a cold bowl. That’s all I usually had while my parents, brother, and sisters slept. I made my sandwich, two slices of bread with a slice of lunch meat, no mayonnaise, no tomato or lettuce. I dropped the dry sandwich into a brown paper bag. There was no way to keep the sandwich cold without spoiling so I only used the basics.

I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. I was still groggy so I splashed again. I heard a soft knock on the door outside that brought me fully alert. “Dan, are you ready to go? We have to be there before five.” It seemed I had heard those words thousands of times and yet I jumped every time I heard them.

Rushing out I grabbed my lunch bag and my hoe, which I had placed carefully beside the door the night before. The hoe’s blade, which I had honed before going to bed, looked sharp and ready for the weeds. Wordlessly I walked with Bob to his gray dented sedan which was already packed with other workers.

In the morning mists I could see the car, hoes protruding from the windows, and could imagine a Viking ship with oars ready to explore the world. I leaned through a door and looked for a place to squeeze in.

“Well, you took your sweet time, Dan,” a voice called out good naturedly from the back seat. I recognized Jake Smith’s voice and turned to face him.

“You’re just lucky I showed up at all,” I countered. “Otherwise there’d be no one to help you finish your rows.”

We all laughed and continued the banter as I crowded in and we drove away. For a few moments we sat in silence as the car, trailing blue-black clouds of smoke, coughed towards our destination.

Someone finally asked, “Has anyone heard anything about the new boss, Laird?” We all shook our heads except for Bob, Jake’s older brother. “This is only rumor, but I heard that Laird chews nails for breakfast and he bit his dog last Friday.” We all laughed but Jake got serious again. “I’ve heard nothing but bad news from the boys down at the pool hall,” he said. “I’m inclined to take their stories with a grain of salt but I thought you ought to know.”

It was something to think about but as we turned off the pavement onto a dusty road I had already forgotten Laird. The car sputtered to a stop beside a field of cotton and gave two or three last shakes and coughs before dying. “You ought to get that car fixed,” I said to Bob. “It’s about to give up the ghost.”

We grabbed our hoes from the car and stared glumly at the field before us. The cotton was waist high and had been long neglected. There were clumps of Johnson grass, small white morning glories, and patches of Bermuda grass.

 

While we waited, three other cars pulled up behind us. Two black families and a Mexican family got out. We eyed the other groups cautiously and I wondered whether we could all work together peacefully.

A green and white pickup came racing up the dusty road past the four weather-beaten cars and slid to a halt. Covering my face with my bandana I waited a few seconds for the pickup’s trailing dust cloud to dissipate. Both of the pickup’s doors swung open. A young pimple faced boy crawled out of the passenger side. He slapped on a blue baseball cap over his unruly blond hair. His lean gangly body stretched too long for his jeans and his arms dangled a few inches too far beyond the cuffs of his sleeves. Although we were at first wary, his infectious smile made him an instant hit to our often ill-tempered group.

On both sides of the truck we noticed some fancy lettering. W.C. Laird, Labor Contractor, it proclaimed in bold black letters to the agricultural world. The boss man, Laird himself, worked his heavy body away from the wheel and out the door.

His stogie, a cigar tucked in one corner of his mouth, was moving in circles as he muttered. I could not understand him at first and I noticed the others were also beginning to look puzzled.

His already red face grew redder and I could see his small eyes squinting behind the wire spectacles.

He suddenly barked, “What’s the matter with all of you? Can’t you hear? We’re supposed to start this field at five o’clock and by gum, that’s what we’re gonna do. Now git your asses over to that edge of the field and pick your row. I’ll be along shortly to check your work.”

He removed his glasses, spat on them, and cleaned them slowly with the corner of his shirt. He watched us silently trudging to the corner of the field. He continued to stare until we began working our way down the rows.

 

The waist high cotton was wet from the morning dew and before we had gone twenty-five yards I was soaked from the waist down and feeling uncomfortable. Swarms of mosquitoes rose before us and began their relentless attacks, searching for exposed skin. I slapped at them occasionally but tried to ignore them, afraid I would be accused of doing more dodging and fighting mosquitoes than hoeing.

Quickly and efficiently I chopped out the Johnson grass and the morning glories with the corners of the hoe. I was not the fastest in the group, nor the slowest as I paced myself to last the morning. By eight the sun was already bearing down and the boss was there, checking each worker’s row in turn.

“I don’t think you’re worth a dollar and a quarter an hour,” Laird said to Preacher, one of the black men who was working close-by. “I think I’ll pay you a dollar an hour.” But Preacher just glared at him and began to work faster. After that I noticed that two women who were with Preacher would occasionally step over and help him catch up.

 

As the morning progressed all the groups began to work closer together and exchanged stories. Preacher began telling stories from the Bible and about a boss who was evil and went to Hell. Since he was looking at Laird, who was leaning on a hoe talking to a farmer who owned the field, we knew who Preacher meant. The two women would laugh at his stories and I could hear the older woman’s deep laugh boom out and the younger one’s laughter, which was more like the tinkling of bells.

Another man, Sid, was in Preacher’s group. He hung back, trying to be inconspicuous and out of Laird’s sight but he was clearly interested in what was going on. He appeared to be jealous of all the attention Preacher was getting.

“Preacher,” he said. “I’ll tell the boss man just what you’re telling us and he’ll fire you and you won’t find any more jobs.” Sid rolled his eyes and waited for us to laugh but we didn’t. We could see Preacher and the women getting upset.

 

The Mexican family with their young children continued to work quietly but they stayed away from Preacher and his group. The father had talked to us for awhile and decided he could trust us. He had told us he and his wife were working without permits and did not want any trouble. If they were noticed by anyone they could be shipped back to Mexico. They had to earn money for some of their other relatives who were unable to make a living in Mexico.

All morning long Sid tried out new antics. He seemed to want any kind of attention. As we approached a heavy stand of Johnson grass Sid called out, “Hark, I see a lion in yon jungle. Preacher better use some of his religious medicine to rescue us.”

Preacher kept pretending to ignore him as Sid continued his tirade. Finally Sid realized no one was listening so he stopped talking but I could tell he was still itching to get something started.

By ten the heavy clothes were beginning to stick to our sweaty bodies. Some of my friends had taken off their shirts and tied them around their waists. I had blistered badly the previous time so I kept my shirt on. We stopped for a water break expecting to get cool water. In our experience most bosses put ice in the water to keep it cool. It satisfied our thirst and cooled us at the same time. But this time was different.

I gulped a mouthful and spit it out. “This water is hot enough to boil tea in,” I grumbled. The others thought I was kidding. Each in turn took a mouthful and spit it out.

 

Laird ambled over. “What’s the matter?” he sneered. “Don’t you like water?” As I tried to find words to adequately express my feelings, I heard the youth who had earlier climbed out of the pickup say, “Dad, this isn’t right. I told you to stop for ice this morning.”

Laird grinned as he chewed on his cigar. “Mind your own business, Steve. If they don’t like the water they don’t have to drink it.”

The sun broiled us slowly as the next hour passed. We began drinking the water out of necessity but warned each other only to sip enough to keep going. No one stayed by the water cooler. Once I saw Laird nudge his son and say, “Without ice the water gets warm and the workers don’t spend nearly as much time talking and standing around. The less time they waste the more money I make.”

As we finished one field we drove to the next field and started again. As the heat increased my head began throbbing and I could hear others complaining about headaches and nausea.

A Mexican girl of slight build and in her early teens said she was sick. She staggered to her car and lay down. Laird didn’t notice she was gone and the rest of us kept quiet about the incident. We didn’t want the girl’s pay docked. We were certain he was paying her less than minimum wage anyway and pocketing the difference. We also thought he might accuse us of slacking or playing sick to keep from working.

Laird blew a little whistle and we stopped for our thirty minute lunch. We hardly had time to eat and stretch our cramped backs before he was shouting, “Get off your lazy butts! It’s time to work again!”

We were soon back in the same routine with Preacher telling stories while all of us continued hacking away. By now I had learned that Paula and Hattie, the two women, and Sid were members of Preacher’s congregation. Together they had driven from a town five miles away when money had become scarce. By banding together, their chances of finding work increased.

Preacher, his leg gimpy from the war, was the shepherd, doing his best to protect the women and keep Sid out of trouble. In turn, they would finish his rows and help him keep up. Sid was always trying to get the attention from anybody who’d listen. I could tell he feared, admired, and hated Preacher, all at the same time.

In early afternoon the two brothers, Bob and Jake, had replaced their shirts because they were already lobster red. Laird’s son, Steve, was talking quietly with a cute Mexican girl of about his own age.

Laird walked over to them and tried to eavesdrop. Steve and Carmen, the Mexican girl, began speaking Spanish. Laird grew red and told Steve to “stay away from that dirty ‘wetback’”. “I don’t want any brown grandchildren,” he jeered disdainfully.

Steve looked up and said with defiance, “Go away and leave me alone. I’ll choose my own friends.” Laird began shouting that he would kick Steve’s rear-end all over the cotton field.

He saw us watching. He stormed away sputtering about Steve being a “snot-nose, smart-mouth kid“. Laird walked over to the water bucket and stared off into the distance. We had the opportunity to work quietly and to discuss the father-son relationship.

Sid, took this opportunity to start some trouble.

“Old preacher man is too old for any night action. I’ll take on either one of you ladies after work.”

Preacher, stung by Sid’s insinuations and feeling protective of the women, headed angrily toward Sid. The two squared off. But with all the dancing, shuffling, huffing and puffing, not a damaging blow was thrown. The excitement attracted Laird, who came over to check out the commotion.

Sid sheepishly explained in detail what had happened while Laird stood there mulling things over. He turned and looked thoughtfully at Paula. The top buttons of her blouse were unfastened and I could see him leering at the fullness of her breasts as she bent to hoe. His audacity surprised me when he walked over as she straightened, daubed at the perspiration that was at the base of her throat with his handkerchief.

“I’ve slept with a lot of women, both white and black. You interest me. I want to see you after work. We’ll drink a few beers and have a little fun. What do you say?”

Paula gasped and stepped back, trying to avoid Laird. “No, no,” she blurted. A hoe was suddenly thrust between Laird and Paula. Preacher stood there, a mixture of hurt and anger in his eyes.

“Go away, old man,” Laird snarled. “If you give me any trouble or if she doesn’t come with me after work then both of you are fired and I’ll see to it that neither of you gets to work for any of these farmers again.”

Paula began crying and Preacher stood there stunned at this new turn of events. Then both of them, without meeting the eyes of anyone, turned and went quietly back to work as if nothing had happened. Laird glared at us and we started hoeing again, trying to look really busy.

He swaggered off in the direction of the pickup and I just leaned on my hoe for awhile and tried to sort things out. It was a real puzzler at first but gradually I realized that Laird would have his way because Paula and Preacher were giving in to his demands. After all, I guess jobs were hard to find if you were black.

We still had a few minutes before quitting time but I was burning up inside, full of anger, and trying to decide what to do. I saw him sitting inside, listening to the radio. I walked over to him and yanked open the door.

“Laird,” I said evenly, “it’s not fair for you to make demands on Paula like that. And then to threaten their jobs if they don’t cooperate.”

Laird turned and slid out of the pickup. He pulled a wet handkerchief from his forehead. “Mind your own business or you won’t have a job either. What I do is between me and whoever and I don‘t see where it concerns you.”

“Laird,” I began again, “you’re a mean and rotten sonofabitch. I don’t want to work for you anymore. I don’t like the way you treat people, especially people of color. I’m going to report you to whatever authorities that’ll listen.”

His eyes were squinting in that pig-like face. “They won’t even listen to you. You’re just a kid. It’s your word against mine. Those people aren‘t as good as us. They’re animals and we’re supposed to control animals. Can‘t you see that?”

I know sometimes I’m hot-headed and unChristian. When Laird started spewing words of prejudice and hatred I just blew up. I swung and connected with his belly, and then another to his chin. He toppled over into the dust. He started to get up but he hesitated and said, “You’re fired. I don’t want you to show up anymore.”

“Laird, I don’t want to work for you anymore. I want my pay and I want it now. I’ll make sure the authorities listen. You‘re not going to get away this easy.”

“I’ve a mind not to pay you at all.” I took a step closer. “O.k. I’ll give you your money but get out of here.” Nervously he wrote off a check and thrust it at me.

I grabbed the check and walked over to the car waving it high in the air. Jake and Bob started walking towards me. Laird yelled, “Get back to work! It’s not quitting time yet! You’ve still got ten minutes.”

 

They ignored him and listened to my side of the story. They approached Laird and a few seconds later were carrying their checks high in the air. The results were contagious. Our carload, and then the Mexican family, and finally Preacher and everyone but Sid had discussed the situation. As a group we confronted Laird and he reluctantly paid off the rest of the crew. Even Steve demanded his pay.

Laird seized Steve’s shoulders and said, “You’re not getting your money. You’re not going to be with these troublemakers.”

Steve stood there quietly and demanded his money again. “Dad, I’m going to report you because I think you’re a liar and a cheat. I don’t think you should treat people this way any more.”

Laird got nose to nose with Steve and called him every name in the book and a few choice ones I hadn’t heard. Steve turned and walked away. Laird started to follow but I blocked his way. “You’ll leave him alone, too,” I said. “I’m tired of you bullying people. If you take one more step I’ll hit you more than once and I won’t stop until that foul mouth of yours is silent.”

My determination cut Laird short. He rubbed his jaw and stumbled to his feet. We waited while he made out the last check. Before we could go he said, “Look, today I made a few mistakes. Let’s not have hard feelings. I want all of you back here tomorrow, o.k.?”

Paula, Preacher, Carmen, and Steve were standing close together and I’m not sure who spat first and I don’t really care. I remember looking at him, seeing the spittle clinging to his face, then I climbed into our car, Steve somehow in with us.

 

I still see Carmen sometimes with her family, working in the tomatoes or sugar beets. They avoid working in the cotton fields afraid they’ll run into Laird. Preacher and his group still work the cotton with me, Jake and Bob, and the rest of the gang. Steve has gone off to stay with an uncle in Arizona. I’ve heard Laird and Sid have moved on to better things like pruning grapes in Lodi with Laird still in charge of a crew. I don’t know if Laird’s behaving himself but I kind of hope he’s learned a lesson and I don’t expect him to show up around here again.

As for me, I’ve learned something about myself and human dignity. If you see others get cheated or trampled upon, you too, lose respect for yourself if you let things slide.

Wages are up to a dollar and a half now and I know I’m not as rich as some other people I know. In spite of not having wealth, I know that I can look into a mirror and be proud of what I see. And that, riches can’t buy.

　

　

　

　

　

Dan Roberson

 

 

　

　

 

 

Exclamation Point!

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Exclamation Point!

I didn’t ask to be like Job,

Whose life took a backward thrust,

Yet here I am with shredded heart,

Arising from the dust,

I’ve lost at love one more time,

But it will not hold me down,

Like a Phoenix I’ll spring into the world,

With a smile instead of a frown,

I’m alone but not alone,

For I believe in a higher power,

Hope is there to guide my way,

Each and every hour,

My arms are bare and empty,

I have no one to hold,

So I choose to embrace the world,

Before my heart turns cold,

This world sparkles despite my pain,

My senses are acutely aware,

I see the beauty in this world,

And feel God’s presence there,

I smile at the turns I’ve made,

And all the times I’ve slipped,

Love will thrive the rest of my way,

It’s still within my grip,

Every day is a bonus day,

Full of meaningful things to do,

Challenges spring up daily at me,

Head on I’ll tackle them anew,

I don’t want to end my life,

With a period at the end of my game,

As a poet I want much more flair,

An exclamation point should mark my name!

Belle Goes to School

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One Sunday as I finished giving Belle her weekly scrub,

Her expression said, “I’m tired of being in the tub,”

She looked shaggy while wet and needing a trim,

And I don’t think she liked her little swim,

 

As soon as her feet hit the bathroom floor,

Lickety-split she was out the bathroom door,

Vigorously she shook, then gave a final shrug,

She began racing from room to room, then rug to rug,

 

I pretended to chase her and I really did try,

But her energy seemed endless and she needed to dry,

Like a clock with a spring she finally wound down,

She lay there thinking and didn’t make a sound,

 

I thought she said, “I’ve been watching the kids go to school,

I’m ready to go, too, it looks pretty cool,”

I drove to school with Belle in the back,

She knew she would have to remain in my backpack,

 

Even for a teacher dogs weren’t allowed at school,

But Belle looked so happy I was willing to break the rule,

The morning went smoothly, you might say it was a breeze,

Belle took her constitutional after her lunch of mac and cheese,

 

My lessons were great but they might have been boring,

As the afternoon progressed I heard someone snoring,

If everyone stayed quiet that was okay with me,

But a rascal named Joe had an insatiable curiosity,

 

He was restless, talkative, and definitely wiggly,

He teased the girls and made them giggly,

He wanted to impress the girls how tough he could be,

It was evident he was ready to challenge me,

 

Belle could sense that trouble was ready to brew,

So she jumped out of the backpack, she knew what to do,

Joe’s admirers saw Belle and left him behind,

Without an audience he nearly lost his mind,

 

Joe was ready to fight everybody he could see,

And of course, his target happened to be me,

Belle was aware that Joe didn’t care at all,

That’s when she brought him a soccer ball,

 

My class went outside for the ultimate game,

Joe and his friends against me and what’s-her-name,

It was hard fought and Joe did his best,

The score was tied close to the end of the contest,

 

Belle looked at Joe, then gave me a grin,

And sealed their friendship, she let him win,

The principal arrived, “What’s this?” he croaked like a frog,

Joe faced him defiantly, “She’s our therapy dog,”

 

From then on when I brought Belle to school,

Joe claimed he taught her to read and she wasn’t a fool,

She knew not to argue when she had it so good,

Because Belle, the therapy dog, always understood.

 

 

 

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Matthew Became My Name

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Good deeds?  Yes, I’ve done good deeds,

I’ve had my share of helping others,

But I, Levi, got caught up in my own greed,

 

As a tax collector I was selected,

I swore to do my best in office,

But my dishonesty was soon detected,

 

All the good deeds I had ever done,

Were all forgotten by those I served,

And I lost all the trust I had won,

 

I was required to go before a judge,

I secretly offered a share of my profits,

But the man was honest and wouldn’t budge,

 

I found out he was afraid of the trouble it might bring,

He suspected officials were on to him,

Trying to snare him with legal strings,

 

I didn’t need to take an honesty test,

I’d take whatever the Romans gave me,

And of course, I would steal the rest,

 

Money was always worth fighting for,

Why worry about what the rich were getting,

There would always be the poor,

 

Because I stole I was always the one to blame,

When I was called to follow Jesus,

Matthew became my new name,

 

Most of the population still hated me,

They knew I worked for the Romans,

And the Romans were the enemy,

 

I don’t know why Jesus gave me mercy and grace,

But he said my sins were completely forgiven,

They were gone without a single trace,

 

Hated by the Pharisees, I was still a Jew,

But a different world was revealed around me,

And the more He taught, I knew.

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• Matthew 12:24-50 (wiseasking.wordpress.com)
• Introduction To Gospel of Matthew: By Dr.WR ‘Dick’ Lockhart (chaplaingary.wordpress.com)

Belle Has to Lead!

Image via Wikipedia

She Has to Lead!

The big dogs could have eaten Belle in one mighty gulp,

But she was always fearless and she let them rough her up,

Often she romped happily with her canine friends,

When life is good like that the fun never ends,

 

To the other dogs her personality was a soothing balm,

This Tibetan bearded lion dog always seemed calm,

Playing with others became part of her daily game,

But Belle would stop her play when she heard me call her name,

 

Her best friend, though, was Fluffy the cat,

She would chase him and he would take her to the mat,

They wrestled day and night until they went to sleep,

Then they would snuggle together, in a little heap,

 

On evening before dinner I was watching a show,

An intruder entered, someone I didn’t know,

He carried a gun and I had no time to react,

Belle disappeared for a moment, then I lost track,

 

The stranger said with derision, “If that Lhasa apso is so wise,

How did I get the jump on you guys?”

He lit a cigarette and leaned against a wall,

“You’re all tied up and there’s no one to help at all,”

 

He smiled smugly and said, “If you make one sound,

Then you and that worthless dog are going down,”

At first Belle distracted him as she dashed from room to room,

The burglar opened the back door and out the door she zoomed,

 

“Hey, keep a sharp watch for the men in blue,

If I find you slacking, then I’ll be all over you,”

His two lookouts grunted, “We’re on it, we’ve got the outside,”

The burglar felt he had control so he went back inside,

 

At top speed Belle raced around corners and bends,

Then silent shapes in the moonlight sped to help her friends,

She led three Dobermans in a blitz the lookouts did not detect,

The lookouts were knocked to the ground, the canines they did respect,

 

Without a bark between them the big dogs knew what to do,

While the little dog continued onward, leading a motley crew,

Chihuahuas, terriers, bassets, two rottweilers, all were on the run,

Not one dog was willing to miss out on the evening’s fun,

 

The burglar heard a slew of sounds, from a squeak to a roar,

While he laughed at the sight, a dog slipped through the door,

From the top of a couch Belle found her viewing place,

The burglar took aim and shouted, “Get out of my face!”

 

When the waiting cat jumped on the burglar’s head,

The burglar shrieked as the cat took care of him instead,

Belle laughed to see such sport as the burglar thrashed around,

And then the rottweilers pounced to make sure he was down,

 

Later a patrol car pulled up and two policemen got out,

They were met by a small dog that was racing about,

She led them to the place where two men lay on the ground,

One of the policemen said, “Look at what we’ve found,”

 

“Roll over, and keep your hands behind your back,

These dogs look hungry, I don’t know if we can hold them back,”

One officer stayed while the other followed Belle to the house,

Small dogs were everywhere, but inside it was quiet as a mouse,

 

The burglar lay on the floor watched by the two rottweilers and the cat,

His face was scratched up and his pants torn where he sat,

“Please officer, I can’t move around and I can’t see,

If I turn just one bit these animals attack me,”

 

“Take me in and put me in a safe cell,

I have my rights and I know them well,

I’ll sue that man for all he’s done,

He’s the only one here so he has to be the one,”

 

I laughed, “I’m still tied up, you tied the knots well,

Think about that while you’re in your cell,”

He stared at me oddly but that drew a hiss,

I said, “You’d better be careful glaring like this,”

 

More officers arrived and put the bad guys in cars,

The burglar was crying because he thought he might have scars,

A detective approached me with a pen in his hand,

“I have questions to ask, there are things I don’t understand,”

 

“Who got all these dogs involved, and what about the cat?

And how did you do it all tied up like that?”

The three perpetrators are as confused as anyone,

And one more question, who called 9-1-1?”

 

When the officers left and I was almost alone,

I patted each dog and the cat and hung up the phone,

“Belle, you did well rounding up your friends,

But you had too much fun, so wipe off your grin,”

 

I gave all the animals treats and sent them all home,

“Come back and visit if you need somewhere to roam,”

Wearily I climbed into bed and turned out the light,

I thought about the events of this interesting night,

 

Following directions is considered a sign of dogs being smart,

But Belle knowing what to do in an emergency was pure art,

The other dogs might be smarter so I’m teaching her to read,

But already she knows they have to follow and she has to lead.

 

 

 

 

 

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Nuggets of Gold

During the week while I’m writing stories and poems, ideas that I call nuggets of gold pop up. I write them down but rarely share them.  Sometimes they work their way into a poem but usually they are wasted.  Sometimes the ideas are related but often they’re not. This time I thought I’d share.

 

 

Nuggets of Gold

Look for beauty and find it

In your surroundings

It lies there waiting for you.

 

Solitude and shadows wait

Hidden in my soul

Ready for the right moment.

 

Sounds and other stimuli

Connect me always

I feel the life force flowing.

 

Even though I do enjoy life

It overwhelms me

I’m easily distracted.

 

I used nine lives long ago

Searching in moonlight

It’s good that I’m not a cat.

 

Continuously write down

Your innermost thoughts

Your heart will know what to do.

 

I’ve squandered many precious gifts

Giving them away

But they will return someday.

 

To know, understand, accept,

Creates confidence

When it’s applied to oneself.

 

Heritage

Family trees can handle stress

Before the sap flows

If connected roots are deep.

 

Related by kinship lists

We encourage the

Successive generations.

 

Love

Almond eyes and peachy skin

She’s ready for love

My heart is pounding within!

 

I’ll write my own love story

One line at a time

Breathing life into stale air.

 

 

Macintosh Apples

A Macintosh fell kerplunk!

That’s how I became

Acquainted with gravity.

 

Seeds from Macintosh apples

Can grow apple trees

But not Macintosh apples.

 

Macintosh’s heredity

Cannot be traced far

Crab apples are the parents.

 

 

 

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Nuts in the Family Tree

Image via Wikipedia

Although the day was cold and crisp with cloudless skies,

I ordered a vanilla yogurt and then I sat,

The cashier looked at me with a question in her eyes,

“Would you like some nuts with that?”

She must have thought I was a normal guy,

 

She waited expectantly while I tried to decide,

“What are my choices?” I asked loud and clear,

She said, “Almonds, Brazil nuts, hazelnuts, walnuts, are but a few,”

I guess I didn’t have to shout with her standing near,

“Don’t forget pecans, macadamias, pine nuts and cashews,”

 

I started giggling and then my laughter turned into a roar,

I couldn’t choose one kind when there were nuts aplenty,

Soon I collapsed with laughter and tumbled to the floor,

“What’s wrong with him?” called one voice out of many,

“I don’t know,” I heard as I was thrown out the door,

 

How could I explain in a few words or less,

About my family tree and the research I’d done,

How all my late night work had increased my stress,

And even though I said I was having great fun,

There were certain problems I needed to address,

 

As I scrambled from branch to branch on my family tree,

Expected results were not always found,

Kings and Queens were shown to be unrelated to me,

From the base I started up from the ground,

Until I got to the top of the chart where I could see,

 

The diverse branches of kin no one knew,

At first they proved to be beyond my reach,

But I would continue until I overturned a stone or two,

And discovered a rowdy pirate like Edward Teach,

Who sailed the seas where strong winds blew,

 

I hoped that only a few pirates would I find,

I could accept Pocahontas or Belle Starr, the bandit queen,

Or other nuts that hid between the lines,

Descending through generations almost unseen,

But too many nuts would drive me out of my mind,

 

Peaches and almonds are on the same family tree,

Closely related although only one is a nut,

That’s crazy and I’m not sure how it came to be,

But it’s a closed case and the door is shut,

It’s a question best left to biology,

 

I’ve heard the saying and know it’s true,

That a nut doesn’t fall far from the tree,

Think of all the troubles that would surely ensue,

If a few more nuts were related to me,

Because I think I might be related to you.

 

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I Decided That as a Seed

Image by John-Morgan via Flickr

Long ago I learned how important,

It was to be like a powerful tree,

As I grew in wisdom and stature,

There were those who relied on me,

 

At first I was merely like a shade,

To protect visitors from the sun,

As I grew wiser I slowly realized,

My branches were for everyone,

 

Then I became a resting spot,

For those who were passing through,

My branches as a social gathering place,

Became important for those who flew,

 

And finally groups came by,

Content that I was safe and secure,

I didn’t charge any to stay,

Because my heart was willing and pure,

 

My roots stretched wide and deep,

Within the clay packed ground,

And all the denizens within the dirt,

Were proud that I was earthen bound,

I had chosen where to place my roots,

I needed a strong unmovable base,

When ferocious storms came through,

I wanted to be ready just in case,

 

Yielding only to the harshest of winds,

Often I was unable to save the nests,

Or protect those who depended on me,

But I still chose to remain and do my best,

 

I didn’t mind being rooted to the ground,

Traveling was something I didn’t need,

I chose to be happy where I was planted,

I decided that as a seed,

 

My visitors and the winds kept me informed,

About the bigger earth around,

But I was as happy as I could be,

Content with the world I’d found,

 

Like a tree I didn’t travel far,

Though my thoughts and wishes flew,

And my dreams and hopes were carried about,

By those who cared and knew,

 

My home has been available to everyone,

My arms have opened wide,

Like a tree I stand with arms upraised,

While my heart beats warmly inside,

 

“Do you mind being anchored to the ground?”

Some people dare to ask,

I smile and say, “I’m like a tree,

I have a bigger task.”

 

 

 

 

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In a Bad Mood

Image via Wikipedia

“You have a hernia,”

My doctor declared,

“You’re going to have problems,

If you don’t have it repaired,”

 

On Friday the thirteenth,

My surgery was set,

“Be at the hospital at six”,

It was written so I didn’t forget,

 

I made arrangements with Lori,

To get me there at six precise,

But that early in the morning,

She’d have to sacrifice,

 

True to her word she was on time,

Though the morning was icy and cold,

“You don’t have to pick me up later,

I have a ride home,” she was told,

 

Checking in was real easy,

My paperwork was already done,

Yet I was a little tense already,

The thirteenth had just begun,

 

I got my instructions and undressed,

And slipped on my hospital gown,

It was tied securely but still drafty,

There was no back to be found,

 

An early shift nurse placed my clothes,

In a bag and in my backpack,

Out of sight, out of mind,

In a locker they were stacked,

 

Afterwards while I recovered,

I wanted to know when I could leave,

If it was going to be soon,

I wanted my clothes to retrieve,

 

According to my nurse,

I was recovering very well,

I could leave if I continued progressing,

But only time could really tell,

 

If the pain had lessened,

And I could finally urinate,

The surgeon said it would be okay,

For the nurse to release me late,

 

After much discussion,

A nurse said my clothes were found,

It wouldn’t be long before I was gone,

And I’d be homeward bound,

 

My thoughts were on Pam,

She’d driven from work afar,

She must be cold and anxious,

And tired of waiting in her car,

 

I passed nurses looking for someone,

That was my humble conclusion,

“Which way did he go?” one nurse asked,

“Over here,” I heard in all the confusion,

 

I followed, trying to stay out of the way,

But I lost them when I stopped to pee,

The nurses were hunting for someone,

I didn’t realize they were searching for me,

 

Strange things were definitely going on,

I heard them calling for “Dan”,

“What a coincidence,” I thought,

“I’ll help them if I can,”

 

Through the halls I wandered,

I was hot on Dan’s trail,

But the nurses couldn’t catch him,

And I was destined to fail,

 

However, it was Friday the 13^th,

And a full moon rose to boot,

I forgot about the fugitive,

Because it was time to scoot,

 

Disheveled and carrying my backpack,

A large bloody spot on my shirt,

I saw no one around to question,

“Sir, are you badly hurt?”

 

Pam eyed me suspiciously,

When I climbed in and asked to go,

“Did you tell anyone you were leaving?

I think they would want to know,”

 

“Where’s your nurse and your wheelchair?

I’m sure a release you’ll need,

I think they’ll all be concerned,

If the checkout rules you didn’t heed,”

 

Pam called the nurse in charge,

Trying to make things right,

In a short while the nurse arrived,

She said, “It’s been a long, tiring night,”

 

Pam helped the nurse whisk me inside,

So I could be officially checked out,

They both seemed a little peeved,

With the full moon out and about,

 

I said, “It’s been fun,”

And I tried not to sound rude,

Even though Friday the 13^th,

Put my nurses in a bad mood.

 

 

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Waiting Dreams

Image by gmayster01 via Flickr

In my dreams I can’t get enough of you,

We frolic in love’s hottest flames,

Caressing and savoring our pure joy,

Filling the time with love’s games,

But when I awake to empty arms,

My heart crashes to the ground,

No more leaping and soaring in the sky,

No more planets or stars, for I’m earth bound,

I want my fantasy to be my reality,

I want to hold you next to my heart,

We’ve been magnets with the same polarity,

The harder I try the more you push us apart,

I think I’ve often tried to kiss the mist,

Or tried hugging a non-existent rainbow,

To be near you without touching you,

Is like being in the sun’s early glow,

The warmth is there despite the air’s chill,

Open your heart and let me in,

We’ll fill the moments with sweet love,

And let the waiting dreams begin.

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We Built a House

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We built a house out of silence and words,

With deep conversations we built the foundation,

Sweet honeyed words that oozed and dripped,

Hardened into concrete passion and love,

Kept level for a time as we patched the cracks,

We let down our guard as the foundation settled,

That was our first mistake,

With polite greetings we built the walls,

Used small talk as we went about our tasks,

In the walls silences became trapped and used for insulation,

Keeping uncomfortable spaces between us,

We talked with our eyes without sharing our thoughts,

That was our second mistake,

With angry words we raised the roof,

We built rafters with the appearance of strength,

But empty and unlivable to those inside,

We chose barbed shingles in an overlapping pattern,

Beautiful to behold but they caught and tore the heart,

We lived in this house and never made repairs,

That was our third mistake,

If we had built our house with realistic expectations,

Knowing that marriage either grows or weakens,

We could have given it the attention it needed,

Sharing our dreams and goals as we stayed best friends,

Making additions, repairs and strengthening the foundation,

But we didn’t,

We built our house on hopes and dreams,

Thinking that the other’s faults would change,

Rather than learning unconditional love and acceptance,

Our house was built on the sand of our own vanities,

And when the storms came, and they always do,

The storms were stronger than a house of words,

And the only thing left is the silence.

 

 

 

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S.T.O.P!

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S. T. O. P.

Ages ago, when cars were raked and chopped,

There weren’t cell phones or games to be shopped,

And many young kids took the time to drag Main,

Whether the night was clear or pouring rain,

It was a time of confusion and serious doubt,

Where should young kids go if they wanted to hang out?

During this period lived three Signs of the time,

I know this is weird but their names do not rhyme,

Stop lived with his two brothers, Yield, and Slow,

And hung out at corners where most people go,

Stop grew tired of being ignored like you might expect,

People waved at him but they showed little respect,

Some raced through without thought of danger,

Some turned off their lights at intersections, (even stranger)

Stop thought it could happen one day that cars crashed,

He thought cars should halt before someone got mashed,

But Slow and Yield argued and could not agree,

Just reducing the speed was enough, they said, just wait and see,

The brothers searched for solutions all through the night,

And finally they were all happy by dawn’s early light,

Slow would show first, and Yield would be next,

Stop would wait patiently to keep cars from wrecks,

Slow and Yield were respected and rarely got blame,

But Stop stirred up some who made fun of his name,

His name was used as an acronym for many phrases,

But Stop grew to accept them as they went through phases,

1.  Stop Teasing Our Police

2.  Squeal Tires on Pavement

3.  Start to Open Presents

4.  Start the Oprah Program

5.  Stop Testing Our Patience

6.  Stop Telling on People

Stop became well known and recognized by all,

It wasn’t because he was handsome or nine feet tall,

Stop’s sign wasn’t common or made from a riddle,

His sign was a red octagon with his name in the middle,

Slow with a rectangle and Yield with sides of three,

The brothers were happy, as happy as can be.

 

“Please Wait!” (Predicaments 5 & 6)

Image via Wikipedia

Predicament  (5/6)

5)  A call from Nashville was on Mindy’s machine,

This was her chance to fulfill her dream,

If she wanted to be a country music queen,

She wanted to tell him one more time,

That she really and truly loved him,

This was her chance while in her prime,

He had laughed off her attempts to be on the air,

“You should just stay home,

You don’t need to be there,”

This was her big break for riches and fame,

If he loved her he could let her go,

Later she would marry and take his last name,

Her plane was leaving at half past four,

Could she reach him in time,

Should she go or stay, she tried once more,

Her song might be a major hit,

Would he be proud of her,

Or just tired of it,

A voice on the line told her what she needed to know,

“Please wait, he’s with a friend, you’re the next one in line,”

Always left to wait, she chose this time to go.

 

Predicament (6/6)

6)  There were always bullies,

Who taunted, laughed, and pushed him around,

Joel was tired of them ganging up,

And threatening to knock him to the ground,

He would show them this time,

That they were very wrong,

They were weak if they met strength,

If he brought a gun he would be strong,

Maybe he could show them once,

And they would leave him alone,

Somebody had to stand up and face them,

He would be a wall of stone,

He wanted to talk to someone who understood,

Who knew just what he was going through,

He tried to call his older brother,

He always knew what to do,

It happened that the voice he heard,

Was not the one he wanted on this try,

Confused and frustrated by a voice that said,

“I’m sorry, that mailbox is full, goodbye,”

He stood there a moment staring at the phone,

There was no reason to hesitate,

The bullies should get their due,

It was time they met their fate,

No one cared what he was going through,

He was tired of smiling when bullies put him down,

Tired of worrying about them in the dark or sun,

Tired of waiting until they made him run,

Tired of everything, so he brought the gun.

 

Predicaments make us decide between good or bad choices,

We choose the result if we listen to our inner voices,

Who do we have to help us think things through,

What wisdom would you share if someone asked you?

 

 

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“Please Wait!”

Image via Wikipedia

Predicament (3/6)

3)  Insufficient funds, there must be some big mistake,

Andrew read the line again. This couldn’t be happening,

It could just be a silly fake,

How could the young lady be part of a scam,

She was convincing and trustworthy,

But she had left him in a jam,

Once more he looked for numbers as he ran a check,

His entire life savings had disappeared,

Answers were needed because his life was in a wreck,

He called her company. The response made him nervous,

He realized what a fool he was when a voice said,

“I’m sorry.  This line has been disconnected and is no longer in service.”

He called the attorney general’s office and much to his dismay,

There seemed to be a pattern in all the lessons he had learned,

“I’m sorry.  The attorney general is in a meeting or away for the day,

Please leave your name and number and your call will be returned,”

It was too late to ask anyone for advice,

Anyone he talked to turned a deaf ear,

Nothing he could do, no laws would suffice,

He encountered walls everywhere he tried,

There was only one thing left to do,

He went home and cried.

 

Predicament (4/6)

4)  Elizabeth and her children lived alone in a house,

They were isolated and vulnerable,

She had lost her spouse,

One evening a car came down the lane,

Why was someone there this late,

Were they lost, needing help, or slightly insane,

Men got out and approached the door,

She called 911. “I need help.  What should I do?”

“Please stay on the line and I’ll send car twenty-four,”

The intruders weren’t friends nor were they her kin,

They weren’t listening when she yelled, “Go away!”

It was quite a predicament she was left in,

Were they there to hurt the children or do her some harm,

The door was caving, someone crashed through,

And was met by the shotgun she carried in one arm,

Determination was clearly written on her face,

She would protect her children and her home,

A woman with a gun wasn’t out of place,

What would he do because he had a choice,

But he was a man full of manly pride,

And he ignored her warning voice,

When he continued to advance,

She pulled the trigger without hesitation,

She had warned him not to take a chance,

The intruder was stopped there in his spot,

The voice on the line returned,

“Ma’am, are you okay, I heard a shot,”

She replied, “Yes, I’m okay,

But the intruder is not,”

“Please stay on the line and wait,

An officer should be there shortly,

He’ll need to investigate,”

A woman alone looked like easy prey,

But when her children were threatened,

The adage was proven, crime doesn’t pay.

 

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“Please Wait!”

Image via Wikipedia

Six Predicaments (2/6)

1)  John stood on the ledge waiting to plunge,

A crowd gathered below,

Waiting for him to make his big lunge,

He moved a few steps searching for traction,

The timing was not quite right,

He called his wife wanting her reaction,

When he told her he loved her without any lies,

Wanting her to know that he lost his job,

He was tense and irritable, But to his surprise,

He heard, “Please wait until your party is found,”

And then music he didn’t like boomed in his ear,

He didn’t want elevator music on his way down,

He let the waiting rescuers come near,

He heard, “We help everyone in our town,”

Despite all the news about John’s desperate act,

Some people thought he was being dramatic,

And said he had a tendency to overreact,

His wife went to her mother’s for a week or two,

John wonders if she’ll ever come home,

Because she’s long overdue.

 

2)  Flames were reaching higher and higher,

Eduardo called 911 screaming, “My children are in there,

Please don’t let this be a funeral pyre!”

A voice rang clear, “Please wait because we have pranksters about,

We’ve had several people call in tonight,

So all our engines are already out,

Tell me one more time what is your plight?”

Fortunately others had seen the glow,

He stammered and stuttered,

In his excitement his words did not flow,

Fire trucks returning were diverted and sent,

Firemen arrived to see the house in dire straits,

Through smoke and flames three firemen went,

They found one child, two, and then another,

They were carried out safely,

The two girls were okay, and so was their brother,

They lost their home, their belongings, their bed,

But when all was considered and done,

They were lucky to be alive instead.

 

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The Magical Flutterby

Image via Wikipedia

During the daylight hours,

I flit, I flutter, I fly,

Sometimes high into the sky,

I wander from flower to flower,

 

It seems such a short time ago,

Before I had these dainty legs,

I was just a good little egg,

That stage was only four days though,

 

When I hatched, I went through a stage,

Feeding, growing, crawling about,

Those two weeks of growing tired me out,

Especially since I was big caterpillar for my age,

 

I built a chrysalis so I could rest,

During the next ten days I began to transform,

Which was certainly the norm,

I wanted to emerge looking my best,

 

After ten days I stretched my beautiful wings,

This way and that until I was dry,

I felt so strong I wanted to fly,

Over meadows, mountains, and castles of kings,

 

I danced across flowers for children to see,

How beautiful and colorful the world could be,

Letting children know that some things are free,

They could dance too and be as happy as me.

 

 

 

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The Stray

Image by chrischapman via Flickr

I asked my neighbor about his dog,

She seemed affectionate, smart, and kind,

He said slowly, “She showed up one day,

Starving, scared, and half out of her mind,

 

She was scrawny and malnourished,

When I first saw her slinking over the hill,

She would sneak up and gulp down any food,

Left by dog or cat until she had her fill,

 

I yelled at her the first three days,

And emphatically told her to go back home,

I told her to stay at her own house,

Don’t come over here to roam,

 

But I got to noticing how poorly she looked,

While she was downing the food in gulps,

Then I watched how she always hurried away,

I knew right then she had pups,

 

I tried to follow her home one day,

But she was determined to give me the slip,

I lost her trail in the snowy woods,

For me it was a wasted trip,

 

I began giving her five cans of food each day,

Just until the start of spring,

Then one morning she didn’t show up,

I thought it was the end of everything,

 

In the late afternoon she appeared again,

Carrying something that I couldn’t quite see,

At first she wouldn’t let me get close to her,

She didn’t trust anyone and that included me,

 

Yet her hunger brought her closer,

And I saw what she protected so well,

It was a pup she toted around with her,

But it was dead, it was easy to tell,

 

For several days she carried that pup,

Though by then it was only a hide,

But the mom refused to give it up,

She had a burning love inside,

 

Finally she laid the pup down,

Close to the northern fence,

She joined up with my other two dogs,

And she’s been here since,

 

I don’t know where she came from,

And I don’t know where she’s been,

But I do know she guards the place,

And I consider her my friend,”

 

With that explanation he walked away,

The dog right there by his side,

I was left with a lump in my throat,

But a warm feeling deep inside.

 

 

 

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