There once was a miner named Yester,
From a snake bite, did his leg fester,
For three days Yester had to to suffer,
but he did eats that rattlesnake for his last supper!
His life was spent just mining for gold
Then nature claimed Yester...(So the story is told...)
Mr. Day did find what he was after...
So ironic, however, that he would meet this disaster.
He found his gold in a lost stream,
Where he oft panned for his dreams,
(all the gold that he was after)
And his death, that became his master.
So he carved on a tree for someone to see,
His last will... should he ever be found,
For though he died alone, he anted it known ,
He did love his family and home.
"To Any, my wife." (to ease all her strife,)
"all my gold I do leave."
And "To Whata,, my son," (who thinks life is all fun,)
"my pick and my shovel are all he will need."
"To Summer, my daughter,"( who is just like her mother)
"I leave promises that turned into dust..
No love could I give her, as I panned every river
for the gold that was my first lust."
Yester had his best day, when his life slipped away,
Any thought he would spite her, but her days were much brighter
Whata stood fast, as he lived in the past,
Searching the streams, that was now, somewhat lighter.
Summer turned cold, for no one man could hold,
her heart that Yester had broken,
He panned only for fame, leaving her only his name,
So she searched for the love never spoken.
The lesson was thought, no love could be bought,
and is passed on from one day to another,
For if wealth be your fame, there is no one to blame,
Should one day be just like the other.
This man is the inspiration for this poem.
|Arizona Mountain Hermit|