Ada and Elsie
Johnclarestokes
The day was drawing to a frenetic close
the miles of repeated pines to never end,
low on fuel, how far must this forest go?
when up ahead, a single bulb flickering.
Turning into the lone, little gas station store,
the elderly lady rose from her rocking chair,
“we don’t see many travelers in Needmore,
mostly they are rushing past going elsewhere.”
While the gallons rang, she told of her life,
tales of bee gums sweet upon Deep Creeks,
of her long departed husband courting her,
the marriage at Oak Grove, the kiss on the cheek.
She could have left this forgotten little stop
and moved down to Lake Cities grandeur,
but she and Elsie chose to remain by the blacktop
telling her stories to the passers in obscurity.
Slowly lowering the handle of the Supreme,
as the mysterious lady settled into her rock,
a desperate longing to linger in this remote dream
where the weary heading elsewhere seldom stop.
Later that night, they had to stop at another station
the needle on the gauge read below low,
“Why didn’t we just fill up back in Needmore?”
“Needmore?” the attendant said, “Why Mrs Ada
and Elsie closed that station over twenty years ago.”
To the memory of John Raleigh and Ada Alford Hall and their daughter Vera Elsie Hall who took over after them.
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