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Texas Clover

Camping on the Devil's dirt
Burning out chuck-fire reflected in the stream
Sleeping under the Lord's stars
Burned out ancestors reflected in me

Nothingness and everything
Running through my mind
It's my watch now, so Paddy
Comes and kicks me in the side

My eyes are too old
To see very far
My senses too gone
To know where we are

The young bucks want rid of me
But my nephew lets me ride point
I need glasses to keep watch now
And I can't stay too long in a beer joint

Now I keep watch over the herd
And wrap blanket over shoulders
It seems cold for August
And it's just getting colder...

Something grabs me in my chest and I can't help but fall over
My heart may have got me but at least I died in Texas clover.

S. Lane Law
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



Photographs and spirits are all that's left for my grandfather to hold on to.
He knows the end is comin' but in his heart it seems he wants it to.
Comin' on 83 years he's been in Central Texas, saw Australia and the islands
back when he wore the army's green.
When you get him talkin' of days past you'll get a story of chopin' cotton,
or baseball days gone, or the hangin that he seen.

He can tell of his daddy runnin for Bell County Sheriff but not able to get the part,
Or when he went to Dallas with a high school buddy trying to play ball for the Sox.
Deep in his eyes you can see what's left of the sand that used to reside in his heart,
The spirit that has now been robbed of him by a changing world that caged him in his box.

That's him.

S. Lane Law
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.



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