The Country Store
© By Grady L. Duncan 8/6/03
When we lived in the country, back when I was a child,
we seldom went to town, though it was just a few miles.
The way was just ruts, in an old sandy road.
Wagons ground it to powder, under a mule drawn load.
In our little community, we were fortunate indeed.
We had a country store, with a few groceries and seed,
a small stock of hardware, and dry goods for sale.
It even obliged us, by receiving our mail.
We never minded at all, we had to walk to the store,
with just a dime in our pocket, though it was a mile or more.
A pop and some candy, were there, waiting for us.
It happened so seldom, we had no cause to fuss.
A trip to the store, was a rare childhood treat,
though the sand was so hot, that it roasted our feet.
Sometimes dad would go, and visit with his friends.
It may be a month before he'd see them again.
Those who had cars, could fill up with gas,
from an old manual pump, with a tank made of glass.
With a stock of ammo, for the most common guns,
And BB's for the boys who were shooting for fun.
They had bolts of cloth, for those homemade clothes,
and tonics and medicines, for a sore stuffy nose,
and home-canned goods, in glass mason jars,
and cigarette makings, chewing tobacco and cigars.
To a small child like me, it was like a holiday,
when we went to the store, on any given day.
For the memories I have, I wouldn't trade them at all,
for the modern conveniences, of a your big city mall.
Though a trip to the store, took a bit of my time,
It was worth every step, to a boy with a dime.
As I look backward, it was time and money well spent.
Priceless memories were bought, by a boy with ten cents.
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