The Empress Poem by cheryl davis miller

The Empress was home to a whole lot of folks.
for one hundred years or more.
She had a diner, a barbershop, an old-time saloon,
rooms to rent, and a five and dime store.

Her boarders sought jobs from far away places
at the Empress there was always a room.
They flooded to Akron from near and from far,
back when tire plants celebrated the boom.

The Empress’s dark halls hid years of grime,
naked bulbs offered very little light.
A shared bath on each floor caused a long waiting line,
where impatience could turn into a fight.

She sheltered a colorful kaleidoscope of characters,
back in nineteen-seventy-three.
A home away from home for sad weary wanderers,
one of those lost souls was me.

You could learn quite a lot in a place like the Empress,
with her dingy paper-thin walls.
As you lay in your bed door barred with the chair,
hearing voices echo down the hall.

Well one thing I learned is “I don’t want to be here, ”
too much sorrow for a girl of sixteen.
For by then She was home to drifters and drunks,
a hiding place for those with a lost dream.

So I gathered my clothes in a bag on my back,
and headed for route twenty-one.
Determined not to spend another night at the Empress,
I smiled and stuck out my thumb.

By the end of the day I had crossed the Ohio,
and was well on my way home.
I swore when I got there I’d settle down,
and never again would I roam.

Now only in memories do I ever travel back,
the sights and sounds to recall.
I wonder if the old Girl still shelters the weary,
or does the Empress still stand at all.


C.D.M 11-19-09