See the old woman,
Skin dried from the sun.
Bushels of cotton,
She picked every one.
See her young daughter ,
Down by the track.
Beautiful hair,
Lying on her back.
Here comes a young boy,
Shes known all her life.
Het told her someday
Hell make her his wife.
She has dreams of leaving,
She doesn’t want to stay.
Put she puts off her dreams,
Until another day.
On a warm summer evening,
They go to the show.
He tells her he loves her,
And no one will know.
Many years go by,
And she thinks of her life,
And wonders what would have happened,
In her dream life.
2007-07-08
10:41:42
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6 answers
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asked by
Cindy
1
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry
Our family is from the south, hence some of the southern accent throughout the poem.
2007-07-08
10:42:54 ·
update #1