fdelano Posted August 26, 2014 Share Posted August 26, 2014 Rust Worn overalls sag into porch rocker after eight hours in cotton mill Caring wife reads aloud the daily news relieving her twelve hour day of house. Fatal stroke hits at midnight arising wife and progeny in terror Kin and neighbors soon gather to stumble in grieving support. Men bring chairs, tobacco, taciturnity to sit all night around the walls holding a seemingly fixed companion in a box over a fifty-pound block of ice. Destitution does not deter the widow from placing the finest granite marker over one side of the double plot the slowest piece of always decaying matter. Again, apologies for my absence. This is another piece, memory, from my memoir of "Growing up in Georgia." I am trying to write through the eyes of the child that I was at the time. I too am rusting, like all of life. Forgive me if I don't respond in a mannerly time. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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