My chair is rocking back and forth, <br />Gazing at the scarred mountain slope. <br />Behold - an inactive mine and coal breaker <br />And a mound of refuse with little hope. <br />A coal-stripping pit filled with water, <br />Idle railroad tracks and polluted streams, <br />Remnants of a productive era of the past. <br />A time that is linked to repeated dreams, <br />Challenging the passageways below the earth, <br />Mindful of a family tradition to fulfill, <br />That created an excitement during my youth, <br />Strolling the path to the mine on the hill. <br />Now reminiscing - these later years, <br />Retired and that I older grow, <br />I seek my rocking chair and dream <br />Of the rugged coal miners of long ago. <br />There is something sort of special about <br />A coal mine that my memory supplies, <br />But the more I rock it seems the more <br />The tears get in my eyes.<br /><br />Joseph T. Renaldi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-miner-s-tears/
