cheryl davis miller
A Hoe Is A Hoe? - Poem by cheryl davis miller
A hoe is a hoe that's what most people say.
But my hoe got broken just the other day.
My grand-daughter borrowed it, [she didn't ask me]
Now the handle is broken causing me perplexity.
She bought a brand new handle but it won't be the same.
A handle's not a handle that's what I will proclaim.
That hoe once belonged to my mother-in-law.
She cleaned it up and oiled it every fall.
Then one day she passed it along to me.
The handle had been carved from a Hickory tree.
It was smooth as velvet from all the years of use.
Shaped for a Lady's hand not made for such abuse.
I'm trying to be kind and behave graciously.
My darling grand-daughter means a lot to me.
I'll have to break it in try to form it to my hand.
A hoe's not just a hoe now I hope you can understand.
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