I guess it's fair to say
I grew up
oil field trash.
Never knew a man
to wear a suit
except the preacher.
Every Sunday
I put a quarter
in the collection.
Oh, Lord, may I
wake one day
with wings.
For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
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About Me
- Maude Lynn
- Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days. ---Flannery O'Connor
11 comments:
MZ--The image of "old field trash" is so powerful.
As always, such a small amount of words that pack so much emotion...
And you did!
Caterpillars often get their wish...
The authenticity of voice gives this poem its power.
a fair appraisal. we gotta get outta here. i really loved this
Sigh.. such a heartfelt write..!💖
Smiles. I remember when I was 15 I wrote a song called "Lord, Please Help This Fat Boy Stuck Out Here In Suburbia." This recalls that same feeling - thanks.
Yes, I hope I will wake with wings one day also. I'm more dirt road trash.
Maybe. This brings up some stuff about trash and treasure for me.
Your keyboard may be just as useful for flight.
me too ~
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