Haggard

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“You seen the new one?”
the third on the left asked the fourth,
who whispered across from him,
“Yep, here he comes now. That expression
looks so deep he must’ve served life
with his face pressed against the bars.”
“That’s so, boy,” the new one said.
“We’ve been waiting on you
since the 50s, but took more than a few
jackrabbit paroles” said the first
as the new one rolled by, smiling,
on the way to his ultimate bid.
“Knew he was comin’,” said the one
by the gate, strumming and chanting
a tune he’d heard somewhere earlier today—
Sing me back home, the song my mama sang
Make my old memories come alive
Take me away and turn back the years
Sing Me Back Home before I die
“That boy look beyond ready-tired
for us…right haggard”
“Yup, so I heard. Bud, that’s man’s
Haggard all right.”
“Yeah, he do look blessed, don’ he?”

Stretching the rules (and the bonds of acceptable verse) I hit the Day 10 Writers Digest poem-a-day prompt asking for an Emotion-titled poem. Yeah, I probably broke the rules, but I like to think ol’ Merle wouldn’t have it any other way. The angels conversing up and down the row are outlaws, too, man!

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