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Don Yarber Don Yarber
Recommendations: 42

An End to the "Means"

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soul mates

I grew up in a large family in Southern Illinois.  This poem is a little reflection of my life up until I met my wife.

An End to the Means

I was born a coal miner’s son,
Went to work in the fields at age five
Picking potato bugs off of the plants,
All of us worked to survive.
Then Momma got tired and I can’t blame her
For leaving us when I was nine
But it hurt me a lot as it would any tot
When Dad got laid off at the mine.

Poor country kids miss out on a lot
Especially when they’re in their teens
I guess that’s why I grew up with
Such a God awful case of the “means”.
For many long years I fought back the tears,
And fought everything else I guess,
Trusting in no one caring for nothing
And drinking my way with the best.

Then you came along, and brought me a song.
A different life than what I was living.
You taught me to share, you taught me to care.
You made me think about giving.
I used to think women were God’s gift to me
To wash my shirts and my jeans.
That was when women were means to an end.
But you are an end to the “means”.

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