STORY, WYOMING: WHERE WE LIVE
an original poem by
Udell L. Hughes, Sr., Story Resident
March 1, 2005

Not long ago we were known as flatlanders;
to be quite honest it bruised both our danders:
so we packed up our duds and furnishings too
and to those who poked fun we bid an adieu.

We searched far and wide o'er much territory,
and our minds were made up in a place called Story.
We bought a log cabin on the side of a mountain,
it's a beautiful place of that we are certain.

It's a very small town, can be toured in a wink,
but there's really more to it than most people think.
It resembles no other place that I've been,
there are very good people, as nice as we've seen.

There's a store on main street that's rather unique,
it is made up of logs, of all sizes and shapes;
they sell oodles of sauces, some names I won't speak
and is known for its samiches and bread that it bakes.

There's a club for our women and a library too,
and one of three churches should satisfy you;
Where a battle took place tween Indians and whites,
add that and a hatchery, how's that for some sights.

Several taverns are here for those who imbibe,
but your limit is tested, and that ain't just jibe.
Their reputations were built on their wonderful food,
you can have loads of fun if you're in the right mood.

Your visits are welcome, I don't mean to be funny';
you may never leave so bring plenty of money.
You can cast a dry fly while you watch the deer roam,
and may even feed them from the porch of your home.

Can anyone wonder why our search ended here,
our golden anniversary comes later this year;
We'll celebrate that in Story, we think'
Then maybe move on, if we're still in the pink.

Thanks, Udell, for sending this poem 
and allowing us to share it with our readers.  
You are the Poet Laureate of Story!

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