Pearl E. McCray

(Cary, NC, USA)


Poem by Pearl E. McCray

The cold house
The bare floors
The hungry days
The hanging doors Food that was scarce
Clothes that were torn
There were times you wished
You were never born. Fires burning
In the big fireplace
Cooking your legs, arms
And burning your face. Kerosene lamps
Burning on the shelf
Sometimes you try to read
In spite of yourself. There just wasn't enough space
You could call your own
Sometimes you could find a corner
And call it your private home.

Comments about Memories by Pearl E. McCray

There is no comment submitted by members..

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: sometimes, food, house, home, fire, memory

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003

[Report Error]