Early Morning Passage

Even as I pass through quickly
In the dark and misty dawn
The hills call to me, sing to me
The engine races in my old truck
My heart races in my chest
Glimpses of hollers, left and right
Catch the corners of my still sleepy eyes
Old dogs rise from the yards
Of a dozen sturdy houses
They look at me as if to say,
"Where y'all been so long?
Why run off so fast?
Can't ye come on up
And sit a spell?"









 Stephen Hollen is an award winning storyteller, humorist and Mark Twain Impersonator living in Beavercreek, Ohio.  He performs and tells stories in Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, Tennessee, West Virginia, Michigan and throughout the USA. 

Old Sweater

The smell of his sweater
Still lingers though he is gone
As I hold it to my face
And breathe in deeply
The scent brings memories
Of childhood, of feeling safe
As my little hand held his.

Melancholy

This color of melancholy
Does not suit me well.
It is faded and harsh
Does not flatter me.

At first I thought it had
A touch of bittersweet.
Looking close there seemed
A hint of what had been.

Instead it is grey
Dulled flat by pain.
Washed out and faded
Bitter with memories.

Wash me and cleanse
Lord of the rains.
Flood the hidden hollers
Cleanse and set me
Free.