Our eight by thirty-eight Nashua trailer,
had a heater fed by gas bought in
pressure tanks that tended to run dry
on the coldest night of the Kansas year.
Our 1960 Olds Batmobile had bad shocks
and a battery we had to bring
inside on winter nights, setting it
beside the heater to be warmer than us.
Christmas decorations were six tiny, gold,
plastic angels purchased at the drug store,
strung on thread, and hung on the wall, so festive.
We were so poor. We were so happy.
Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II
This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons
BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment