Tom and Me
All I ever wanted was
t' ranch on Grandpa's place.
It's hard for me acceptin'
that with Tom, that ain't the case.
Tom, he'll be th' last one
t' bear our family name.
I never could quite understand....
he didn't feel the same.
With me and those before me,
we were fixtures on this land.
With Tom, the ranch means nothin'
but some greenbacks in our hand.
Tom, he wanted somethin' else....
a different life and place.
And Tom was filled with memories
that time did not erase.
He watched while Banion lost his ranch
and everything he owned.
It didn't bring enough t' pay
the funds th' bank had loaned.
Recession ate his equity
and left him with a debt
beyond what he could hope t' pay
with prices he could get.
And one day Banion shot himself.....
and Tom could not forget.
T' make it ranchin' nowadays
takes more than work and sweat.
Then Tom went off t' college;
and he got himself a job.
He's makin' lots a' money
and hobnobbin' with the snobs.
I used t' think I'd never sell.
My sweat's in every clod;
in every furrow on this land,
my life's plowed in the sod.
We always made a livin'-
though I can't say that we thrived.
But still, when others bellied up,
Tom and me survived.
But Tom would often urge me
t' blaze some brand new trail;
and come the next inflation,
t' list the ranch for sale.
Now lately, I have wondered;
maybe Tom is right.
This gettin' old is somethin'
that is mighty hard t' fight.
My back and joints are tellin' me
that this time I can't win.
There comes a time for givin up-
a time for givin' in.
© 2000, Bette Wolf Duncan
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
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