The Other Half

It’s birthday number forty-four
No rotted timbers in your floor
You’re just as handsome as you were
Perhaps a little sleepier

The shine of silver in your hair
Lends you a certain debonair
Quality, I can’t resist
Even when you get me pissed

When you eyes begin to twinkle
The crow’s feet in the corners wrinkle
I know you’re still the same old tease
Say, “yes, dear,” then do as you please

I love you more as time goes by
You’re the corned beef, I’m the rye
I’m the beans and you’re the ham
I like you just the way you am

P.S.
You’re the cookies, I’m the milk
There is no other of your ilk

**

Aunt Effie’s Story

It hurt Jess to lift his cramping legs up onto the stoop at the old hotel. He never did get broke in good to harvesting potatoes that summer. It never bothered me as much, but I was wiry and used to bending over in a garden. We was just married a few months then, in 1945. They was hard times. In the evening after supper, we’d visit about our plans and roll a few cigarettes for the next day. One morning I got up and Jess had my cigarettes. Said we couldn’t afford for both of us to smoke – told me I was done. I never cared . . I thought a lot of that old boy.

**

Courtship

He invited her in and offered cold cider
Served up fried chicken and sat down beside her
Wooed her with biscuits and apricot jam
Fiddleheads steamed in an old frying pan