Ways of times past prevails

I was just fifteen when I burst on the scene
At the store on the corner of the old river town
Once a cow camp, and later, log and miners tramp
Dolores was a place you couldn't knock down
In the southwest corner, downstream from Stoner,
It was marked by the passing of the long-gone rails
But the strangest of the batch, was Taylor's old patch
Where Merton, Cecile, and ways of times past prevails

There were red dogs in the floor, on oak between counters and near the door
Canine-filled blue Scout, at lunchtime about, added to the place's lore
Jason after rounds north and south, with bank bag in mouth, and a wag in his tail
Carried the cash, down the block in flash, to bank and post office for mail

In windows out front, a saddle, or stuff for the hunt, filled glassed-in holiday displays of regalia
Down through side isles, cabinet hardware and files, sandpaper, paint, stain, fastener paraphernalia
Above the nail bins, were the Gerry cans and tins, in the darkness near where cash register rung out
There on the scale, you might find coffee or cement-coated nail... perhaps lies, regarding size of trout

Back through double doors, near the basement stairs, and mops for the floors
Sat Merton cussin', wantbook, government, and technology he was fussin',  and Mirofiche he abhors
But what really sets him mad, is the times past he had, and the fading picture and store
The good old days gone and time marches on, new stories, same problems, new battles, same war

I was just fifteen back then on the scene
At the store on the corner of the old river town
Once a cow camp, and later, log and miners tramp
Dolores was a place you couldn't knock down
In the southwest corner, downstream from Stoner,
It was marked by the passing of the long-gone rails
But the strangest of the batch, was Taylor's old patch
Where Merton, Cecile, and ways of times past prevails

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

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