I Grew Up on Misery

I grew up on misery,

And learned the art of solitude,

Make no noise and received no promises,

Because they were few.

But the grief I carry, in my gut 

Has built a tapestry of shame.

I’m from the woods of the North Platte,

I’m from Paradise Valley

I’m from the golf course of despair 

(following could be an old fashioned blues rant)

I ain’t got lawn of green

Nor a tree standing straight 

Not a daddy I could count on

Not a simple faith to grow

Not from them but I learned

How to love from my enduring best friend,

My life’s partner.

It’s been forty six years since

Those mistakes they made

Sing the Blues

Sing the Blues 

Cause there’s no other way to make it rhyme.

Sing the Blues

Author: Keith Basil Broadbent

Born and raised in Wyoming but residing in Colorado. But a long road to get back to the mountains. My family moved me from a well-established home environment to finish my last two years in high school in Ft. Collins, Co. I loved Colorado with mountains close by and warmer weather here. I hated leaving Casper and all of my friends there. However, I barely graduated and was uninspired. I was in survival mode until I got free from my family enraged in drama until I met my wife Kay in school in Houston, Tx, in 1972. Kay is the best thing that ever happened to me!

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