Where do Saturdays Go

On Saturday as is my plan
I trudge to the distant market
To feed my family here
Cold winds race each other
To find new holes in my
Coat of twelve long years
Sad cow faces stare past me
Never meeting my eyes
Or seeing my smile
I wait my turn in lines
Pushing a left-turning cart
To feed my family here
Home again and cold
It is already time to start
Chopping up the veggies
Steaming out the rice
So that dinner will be ready
To feed my family here
Yet it is when dinner fades
And a chipper knock
Comes to the door
And friends with rosey faces
Quick minds and agile tongues
Gather to discuss the world
In all its great and simple forms
Then it is I know
I've done all that I might do
To feed my family here

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This work is Copyright (c) Mike Fletcher 2006