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