DEDICATED TO ME
by SEAN EDWARDS
A memory of a time. When coal was once king,
When a fossilized fuel is what the coalman would bring,
To the awaiting coal bunker, a coal store for the home,
Perhaps even a scuttle made of fine chrome.
Fire places burning, providing much heat,
Chimney stacks smoking in every street,
Back breaking work, coal dust ingrained in the skin,
Hot baths would be waiting, baths made of tin.
A most honest job, a dutifully fulfilled role,
Brought back to life with an artist's charcoal.
Copyright Sean Edwards