HB (2/24/1932 / Houghton Lake, Michigan)

Bad Times, Then Good Times

BAD TIMES, THEN GOOD TIMES

She lies in her bed, at night all alone,
wondering just when her man will be home,
will he be drinking, and smell of cheap wine,
will he be angry and beat her this time,
so many bruises she has had to hide,
so the children don't see them, she still has her pride,
then she wonders why does she stay,
why does it always, have to end up this way,
just where could she go, what could she do,
she has no money, and her things are so few,
there must be someone to help her,
that she don't know about,
or some organization that will help her out,
then she hears the car in the drive,
thank you lord, he is home alive,
but there came a knock on her door,
funny, he had never done that before,
so she put on her robe and answered the knock,
a voice from outside said he was a cop,
she opened the door and they asked to come in,
the look on their faces was cold and so grim,
they then told her the terrible news,
her man had been killed, while drinking his booze,
he lost control of his car on a hill,
it rolled over on him, and him it did kill,
three others in the car were hurt pretty bad,
they said they were so sorry, that he was a good lad,
but they didn't know him way deep inside,
nor how he would beat her until she cried,
the tears from her eyes ran down her face,
what would she do, to not bring disgrace,
she called her brother and asked what to do,
he said he would be there in an hour or two,
she made some coffee, cause she had to wait,
for her brother she hoped he wouldn't be late,
when he got there, the story she told,
how nasty he was since his love had grown cold,
the brother just hugged her, and held her so tight,
he knew what she had gone through early that night,
when the funeral was over, they packed up and left,
he couldn't leave her so alone and bereft,
now the years have passed on, and she is married again,
and this time she got a very good man,
he raises the children just like they were his own,
they are never hungry and have a good home,
when they call him daddy, it brings a smile on his face,
and no other man could take his place.

written by Harry Bryant
10/7/04 2: 30: 58 AM ©
all rights reserved

by Harry Bryant

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