Breathed the air great
Rolled with comfort wheels of silk to sail.
When once his burdened trek never failed,
Despite lesser means for travel prevailed.
The wagon drawn by oxen
Slowest travel locks in,
Until evening shadow walks in,
Give respite for fatigues toxin.
More than one hundred years ago,
Still today, I felt his horse's mane throw,
Knew the place they stood battle and blow,
The ghosts of Caney valley I know.
The battle wasn't his they said,
Spoke of it with some dread,
Clinched his jaw, saw his children wed
Where later, on the city walk they bled.
"You can't beat old man right,." His cry.
But there was Dora and she did die.
Seib, at Independence exhaled his last sigh,
Joseph, Grandad, remained. The tie.
Becky lost her husband on Arkansas land.
Walsie and her husband had to take a stand,
Ruth Ann owned hotel at Burbank so grand
And little Dee. a jockey with winners band.
Yes, I breathed the air of the valley fresh
While we were wrapped in that fine mesh
Of heavy green vegetation strong cache,
All this a part of me, sealed in my flesh.