My chair is rocking back and forth,
Gazing at the scarred mountain slope.
Behold - an inactive mine and coal breaker
And a mound of refuse with little hope.
A coal-stripping pit filled with water,
Idle railroad tracks and polluted streams,
Remnants of a productive era of the past.
A time that is linked to repeated dreams,
Challenging the passageways below the earth,
Mindful of a family tradition to fulfill,
That created an excitement during my youth,
Strolling the path to the mine on the hill.
Now reminiscing - these later years,
Retired and that I older grow,
I seek my rocking chair and dream
Of the rugged coal miners of long ago.
There is something sort of special about
A coal mine that my memory supplies,
But the more I rock it seems the more
The tears get in my eyes.
Joseph T. Renaldi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-miner-s-tears/
