One for Saturday Night
(written to "Panorama" by Patchwork)wheels on blacktop travelling a never-ending road
always heading somewhere, but with no place to go
sun rises and sets, coffee brews and grows cold
eyes open every morning, waking up to grow old
lights blink, traffic hums, voices lie, t.v. re-runs
maybe you should trade-in your brain,
upgrade your thoughts
re-model your existence, write a new plot
posted by Anonymous @ 8:20 PM
5 Comments:
Oooh, are you going to going to make the Saturday night poem a regular feature? I'll mark my Franklin Planner.
Mark it with a "P"...for poetry!
I want to die my poetry is so overgrown I'm going to have to pull out a weed-wacker to find it.
Ok Nikki..... I just don't know why... but I have read your comment twice today and it just keeps conjuring up visions of "personal hygiene". I must be in the throws of some neurological glitch. But, even if that is the case, for the next few weeks I will be referring to my "ahem" as "my poetry".
O.K. this just made me laugh so hard. I do have to get a weed wacker for the other, but that can wait. I'm not expecting visitors. ;) HAR. Now get that visual out of your head.
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