The Auction Sale
Another "Auction Sale" today--
This time for neighbours not far away.
The auctioneer's voice booming out loud,
Searching and taunting and working the crowd.
The tables heaped high with junk or with treasure,
I guess that depends on whatever's your pleasure.
The crowd moves about in groups or alone,
Searching for bargains to carry back home.
And that dear old couple whose smile belies
Their heart's heavy ache and pain in their eyes
Of the treasures they'd saved for so many years,
The secrets each held of glad times and tears.
A cradle whose footboard was worn and bare
Of each golden head that had nestled there.
Their daughter's dolls with snipped off hair,
The pushed-in eye that brought total despair--
The broom-tailed horse that was their son's
That chased down the robbers in make-believe fun.
Books, games and toys, keepsakes so dear
All brought out emotions of laughter and tears.
And so it went on from morning till night
Each article greeted with jeers or delight.
At last came a box all sealed and wrapped tight
With scotch-tape and twine and ribbons so bright.
"How much am I offered for this veil and gown?"
Holding it to him and dancing around--
"And lookie here! That's a spiffy old suit
Five bucks takes it all, and the old shoes to boot--"
But the old man stood up,
Made his way through the crowd.
Some started whispering, others cheering out loud.
He took the things from him
The tears then did start;
"These aren't for sale---they're part of my heart!"
Days Gone by
Oh take me back to long ago
When life was simple and times were slow
When all the hard work was done with pride
And accomplishment left a glow inside.
When hardship came as part of life
And no one buckled under sorrow or strife
When neighbour treated neighbour
As though they were brothers
Lending a hand and helping each other.
When 'stress' was not a familiar word
And 'suicide' was something no one ever heard
When folks were happy and not always sad
When people thanked God for whatever they had.
The Morning Walk
I take my morning walk outside
And greet my little friends
Their faces pure, their arms stretched out
Yet making no demands.
I talk to them and kiss their cheeks
And wish them all "good-day"
I long to stay and visit more
But turn and walk away.
There's so much work I have to do
Work that just can't wait--
I turn around for one last look,
Then stop and hesitate.
To heck with work and life's demands
They'll never go away--
Today I'll sit amongst my flowers
And spend a perfect day!
Rose C. Johnson raised a family and farmed in Alberta until 2018. She is now a resident at Shepherd's Place in Edmonton.