Their own waking
john clare
Mornings she would lie still slow waking
Somewhere between the opening and the closing
Back to some holler below Crumpler Mountain
Lying quietly upon a sofa bed of her own making.
No home of her own long since sold
Passed around from generation to generation
Somewhere between the opening and the closing
Lying quietly upon a sofa bed of her own making.
Back to some holler below Crumpler Mountain
Father calling her to board the Northfork line
Somewhere between the opening and the closing.
To Bluefield past Pinnacle Rock one last time.
Mornings she would lie still slow waking
The generations would tip toe whispering
Lying quietly upon a sofa bed of her own making.
Dreaming kitty at her feet deep in purring.
Back to some holler below Crumpler Mountain
To the tipple whistle sending men below
Deep to the veins of coal forever below
Crying quietly upon beds of their own waking
Somewhere between the opening and the closing.
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