Bob Dylan Walking

Head bent His eyes firmly fixed on the ground Guitar in hand There he goes Trying to keep the biting winter’s wind From nipping at his nose Baby faced with a bouncing gait Bob Dylan is walking the streets Of Greenwich Village It’s sometime in the late 1960’s Now, I’m not saying that I’m old But I remember those times And when I close my eyes It was just the other day That the Village Was a mystical portal Of finger pickin’ Music and words that kept you thinkin’ Moonlit nights with lots of coffee drinkin’ And smiles of friends who are no longer singin’ ‘cause they’ve gone far, far away But these days I can still hear their harmonies walking Down the streets of Greenwich Village Past the old Coffeehouses That no longer have a name Except for the ones we remember And on those cold winter nights When the wind blows chilly to the morning I can hear The clickety-clack Of Bob Dylan’s boots Walking around the 1960 streets Of the Greenwich Village I once knew ----------------------------------------------- While I was writing this A funny thought occurred to me … it was this… Who remembers? Why Pepperidge Farms remembers That’s who!