I remember winter evenings,
Bitter winds that cut to the bone . . .
I still shudder when I think of
That outhouse, several yards from home.
I remember sticky summers;
What a smell floating on the breeze!
How I hated that old outhouse;
Hated the stench, the flies, the bees!
But now I’m RICH; I’ll prove it to you
Whenever nature comes to call,
I have an air-conditioned bathroom
Located two steps down the hall.
Copyright © 1998 by moleta ruth mccarter. All rights reserved.
