Hughson, CA
ajedward
Old Men
By Anthony Edwards
Outside the old church every Sunday at one
The old men would gather when the preacher was done
While the women would gossip and the children would play
The old men would banter and chew on the day
Old Mr. Smith would suck on his pipe
And joke about how “the missus” would gripe
With a flick of the match and a blue puff of smoke
He deep down inside knew it wasn’t a joke
Larry Mc Phearson was whittling wood
And talked about sales as a salesman should
He had been a bachelor all of his life
And would that he could have whittled a wife
Old Michael Miller stood taller than all
A veteran retired, he’d answered the call
Of long ago battles he could not help but think
So to quiet the memories had resorted to drink
When the preacher was finished shaking hands at the rail
He would pass by the old men, with a joke he’d regale
And they all would laugh knowingly, the joke just for them
Would be slightly off color with just a chance to offend
Then slowly, but surely, as the sun would direct
The ladies would come, one by one, to collect
Mrs. Miller and Smith came to take their men home
With a wave, old Mc Phearson was off on his own
Each man nodded as they turned for the road
Then from the old white chapel, they wearily strode
The minister waved, as he locked the old gate
He would see them all here, next Sunday at eight
Copyright 2013 Anthony John Edwards. All rights reserved.
Hughson, CA
ajedward