The house is quiet, sort of cold,
not time for the furnace to come on.
Quiet as my thoughts prevail,
thinking of what I was dreaming, afore I awoke.
Early morn is my time,
just me and my thoughts,
no interruptions, no comments,
just me a thinking and a typing.
Remembering what was neat and cool,
when a boy I was back then.
During the war we saved grease,
to support the war effort.
White buck shoes, mine were loafers,
orange soles, not the lacers.
Penny loafers with a dime,
Irene good night and Tennessee Waltz.
Tom Dooley a playing on the train,
that carried me to Parris Island.
WWL New Orleans, played the big band dance music,
Ames brothers and the Pinto Pony, Beer barrel polka.
Doctors made house calls,
two dollars it cost,
couple days they were a coming,
people trusted the doctor and their preacher.
Mimeograph copiers, cut a stencil and run them off.
three telephones in the village,
lots of folks getting electric lights,
indoor plumbing a rarity, Sears and Monky Ward Catalogues.
Walk where you wanted to go,
not many people had an automobile.
busses and trains you rode to town,
five and dimes the big thing.
Vets wearing their “Ruptured Duck”
proud of their war service.
Nickel cokes, ice cream cones,
penny candy was so dandy.
Yeppers, memories of way back then,
things were so much simpler then,
people honest, told the truth,
people worked for what they got.
Gone are those days,
only the memories,
shucks, I worked for ten cents an hour.
© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)