2 poems by H. B. Frank, Sr. | POEMS of the week

A Mother's Day poem, I'll write for you,
Waiting on my dinner and smelling the stew;
Hope she remembers I like it hot,
Plenty of vegetables, right in the pot.

She knows garlic makes me ill,
And too much pepper gives me a chill,
Never touchy pork in the summer time,
Her appetite's a little different than mine.

Don't know why I have to wait,
Dinner'd be ready if she hadn't started so late,
Spent too much time a mowin' the grass.
Been thru sooner, if she'd only work fast.

But I'll forgive her, this neglect of me,
Won't gripe much, just let things be.
Keepin' a family going, ain't all play,
And after all, this is MOTHER'S DAY.

_________________________________________________

Variety Store, Oh Variety Store, where did you go ?
When I go shopping, I do miss you so,
Cant find the little things in a great big store,
Cant find anything for a dime any more

The shoelaces I always bought for a dime
When I finally find them, they'r marked sixty nine
Brach Chocolates  you once sold for Twenty Cents a pound,
Are nearly two dollars when they are finally found.

The FREE CALENDARS at Christmas which you gave away,
Are one of the SPECIALS on sale during dollar day.
Sure do miss you dear old FIVE AND TEN,
Dont know WHERE we are going, but know where we've been.

Writing this poem was not easy for me.
Wife and I are getting old as you can see,
If I'd think real hard, I'd shed some tears,
DIME STORES WERE OUR BUSINESS FOR FIFTY FIVE YEARS.