Here we go then, another poem written for english. Based off the book Of Mice and Men.


George Milton

Tall, lean, and proud.

Protective, caring,

Afraid.

Silence gives way,

Crickets hum, and a fire crackles.

A soft wind brings faint memories.

Memories of a field, a man,

A red dress, and a scream.

A voice covers the wind,

And the memories fade.

An innocent question, a childish grin:

"Where we goin'?"

thoughts of mice, a man,

a red dress, and a scream.

"I tol' you before, we're going to work."

Always to work.

No land, no house, no rabbits.

Just work.

No more talk of getting "the jack together."

No more dreams of "a little house and a couple of acres."

Because "guys like us got no fambly…

They don't belong no place."

"They come to a ranch an' work, and first thing you know,

their poundin' their tail on some other ranch."

"They got nothing to look ahead to."

Except work.