Читать книгу Walking Home to Rosie Lee - A. LaFaye - Страница 8

THESE FOLKS have freedom on their minds and they

talk it out over the nighttime fires that light up their faces

like lanterns—all hope and hurry on.

Me, I got my mama, Rosie Lee, on my mind. Can almost

see her bright gray eyes, smiling back at me when she’d

walk to the fields in the morning.

Papa used to say Mama could bake a pie so sweet, the

birds flew out of the sky to have them a taste. Then Papa

took sick and left this here world.

All day, all night, I’m looking for folks I don’t know,

asking if they’ve heard of my mama, Rosie Lee.