Broken holler a place way back in the hills, a little log cabin where time stood still. back and forth she rocked a tune upon the ancient porch and at her feet a beagle she named Gentleman George.
Was a chill in the air and leaves captured by a soft breeze, Fluttering back and forth finally losing their hold on the trees. She shivered but still held her seat in the chair, Only pulling her sweater tighter against the cold air.
She watched the shadows lengthen as the sun slowly faded away, And knew she had not accomplished anything this day. She had rocked on her porch thoughts from so long ago, And her question; “where did the time go?”
Just yesterday she was young, wild, and free, Running through the forest, lounging at the beach, playing in the sea. But no, yesterday was long gone, she let it disappear with her lover, Her life ended with his and she never wanted another.
Oh, how she cried and mourned missing him so much, Where was his smile, his kiss? Oh, how she missed his touch. The wind chose that moment to catch her tears upon her cheek, Closing her eyes, blocking her mind, she had no desire to think.
So much pain came from thinking and her heartbreak, How can she keep living when her soul always ached? Gentleman George perked up his ears and let out his beagle bark, Nothing she could see for the light had long since turned dark.
Sleet fell from the sky she could hear it upon the roof’s tin, Shivers overtook her and she knew it was time to go in. But Gentleman George knew there was something about, Inside she grabbed her coat, flashlight, shotgun, and came back out.
A savage wind had replaced the breeze and trees creaked and groaned, She wanted to return, so warm inside her home. A soft moan? No, it could not really be a voice in the wind, She turned to leave but then heard it again and again.
She shook her head for she could not leave until she found the voice, What kind of person would she be? She had no choice. Through the woods and across the creek across the narrow bridge, Up the hill, farther up till she came to Sutter’s Ridge.
So ridiculous out her chasing ghosts in the cold mountain air, And still, she did not see anything anywhere. She began to fear for she was approaching the old coal mine, Ghosts aplenty for a cave in happened and shut down for a very long time.
It was said ghosts of the dead haunted this area, but that was probably rumor She had no desire to take that chance for she did not see the humor. Not now anyway. Her feet were frozen and she was out of breath, Oh lord, why had she risked catching a cold, freezing to death?
Her imagination, well no that was not true for Gentleman George led the way, So why here, why now, and why on this day? Twenty years ago today, her lover was trapped inside this mine, And as she stood she was taken back in time.
She fell to the ground tears freezing as they landed, She gave all she could, she had given more than her soul demanded. Then she heard it again. A lost soul, not a ghost or imagination, A young man, hurt, alone, afraid, and she felt the oddest sensation.
She was regaining her heart she was beginning to feel. He needed warmth, care, he was hurt and needing to heel. How she got him home she will always wonder, but no it was God’s grace, She heated him some soup, bandaged him up, and put him by the fireplace.
Broken leg, broken rib or two, planning on staying warm, Too many cave-ins, dangers, many things that could harm. She had a purpose now, a reason to get up, to live, He had no home, no family, but so much talent to give.
He done chores after he heeled, stayed around quite a while, And each day he gave her many reasons to smile. He gave her heart back, he gave her soul a new peace, All her ghosts and ancient memories were released.
Gentleman George lay upon her grave in the summers sun, But at the man’s whistle, he hobbled along for he was too old to run. For her grave wildflower meadows, fresh flowers and colorful leaves A smile, a blown kiss, nature’s bounty a song in the breeze.
He walks with a slight limp from his injury a long time ago, But it is okay for him and Gentleman George may be old, but can still go.
© Cynthia Clark