just poor folks, <br />living in an old house, <br />sleeping in a corner <br /> <br />'neath old handmade quilts. <br />scrubbing scarred floors <br />with pinesol pride mops.... <br /> <br />while the smell of cornbread and <br />beans hangs in the air..... <br />stuffing cracks in the windows <br /> <br />against the cold... <br />kerosene heater, <br />2 five gallon cans.... <br /> <br />a bare light bulb <br />hangs over the table.... <br />they sit in silence.... <br /> <br />reading and thinking... <br />the old car in the drive, <br />might crank, and might not.... <br /> <br />but that's tomorrow.... <br />and tonite, <br />they're almost warm!<br /><br />Eric Cockrell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/just-poor-folks/
