These Boots My Grandfather Wore

Calluses, bloody blisters on the bottoms of his feet
My grandmother would clean them, rub salve on them and wrap them each night
His coveralls blackened with soot, his face the same, from the mines
Where the sledge hammer fell hard and the coal filled the carts
It wasn"t easy back then to make a living
But my mama always proud of her father, my grandfather, a hard working coal miner
The days long and very warm, the evenings short and very cold
My mama would tell me stories as the oil lamp kept burng til I fell asleep
We didn't have much food to eat, but the butter bean soup, and the cornmeal cakes kept us going
I still have the old dusty boots that my grandfather wore, sitting next to my bed
As I dream of how hard he worked, and to me he was a greatest of men