Theoretical Storms
Theoretical rains
And supposed storms
I know it’s crazy
What odds and a thought forms
When you’re old and lazy
And now it’s just all slowness and pains
And they’ve stopped reading your porms
Lightening displays
And rumbles cross the street
I say watch it
Listen for the sax down beat
You know you’re gonna catch it
But Young Turks loom over newer days
And they’ve taken over your old seat
Suspended sunshine
The streets return a cleaner dry
Come on, let’s go
It’s time to take another try
Lace it up and hit the do’
Kill off two miles and don’t whine
If your goal is to really fly
Posted on September 3, 2018, in Poem and tagged chance, fail, fly, form, futre, hope, lace up shoes, lightening, loud change, neologism, new seizes the old, old age, old gives way to young, out the door, pains, past, peoms, rains, rationale, run, storms, succeed. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.
Kitt
pueriles 