Tiny mudlined shoeless prints
mark these polished floors
from down the hallway backward to
a wide left open door
...
In a rude and calamitous world
Where cash beds down with power
And greed rusts souls each hour
Let me gladly go sit among the tender
...
Culinary Art
Tiny mudlined shoeless prints
mark these polished floors
from down the hallway backward to
a wide left open door
Her face was streaked as too the hands
in a dirt mixed shower blend
from making and baking mud pies
with abetting wet proof friends
Crying she said, we need a tray
cause Millie's big sister's there
and took our stuff right from us
in tones of great despair
To the bath with you she affirmed
and stay off my fresh waxed floor
wash those dirty feet young girl
then close that swinging door
Soon spic and span with pan in hand
the chef skipped out the door
it won't take long to look just like
the way she did before
Re-shining the tile you could see
a gleam in her eyes so plain
gladly Mom would never love someone
that did not like the rain
Homey, down-to-earth poet. Great ideals are presented in a working-hands style. Very relaxed person as I recall. I wonder where Ruthie is?
here's my poem it's way better than this.... The Sky is blue I wish I were too! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! nahhhhhh i'[m jk jkjkjkjkjkj ur poems r cool i can't write anything