They tell a tale of living
From Wilkinsburg to here,
Of taking some and giving,
How good that friends are near.
The best and worst of all
Are lost now to the past.
Most times that I recall
Now comfort to the last.
Each day an uphill climb
From dawn till fading dusk.
The days, a pleasant rhyme,
The past a scrimshaw tusk.
Still, blessings come my way
As I rely on hope.
I know to stop and pray
To better help me cope.