Don'T Go Down The Lane Poem by Connetta Jean

Up on the ridge
off a gravel road
there's a lane
most people
do not go down.
they say a old man
with one eye
and a hook
for a hand
lives in a shack
3 miles down the road.
He loves his cats
and just for fun
shoots at shadows
With his Grandpas gun........
Once a month
he goes into town
in a 76 chevy pickup......
buys matches and salt...
Flour and bullets...
I've been told
he sits on the rocks
at nightfall
overlooking the lane
waiting for his dog
to come home..
twenty years have passed
yet still he waits..
calling out in the darkness
" Here boy..here boy" ..