It began with a drizzle
Pin pricks falling down hard
Many of you will know what this means
When I say I remember the days of my teens
Wanting to be like James Dean
In a short-sleeved tee & indigo jeans
Those were the days of simple blue
5 pocket denims without much ado
You could run them ragged and threadbare
Scuffs and stains, but never a tear
One thing is absolutely crystal clear
I don’t have the smarts for art
But when the wife’s commanding voice calls, “dear?”
I run along to play my part
What goes up must come down, and whatever goes down has to come up again. Continue reading →