Poetry Forum
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11/8/2012 11:17:23 PM
Schuyler Johnson
Posts: 17
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Fly down the road, rounded stones to my bare feet;
at the end a watery feild I would meet.
Leaping high, we lunged to the deep;
days of youth, the times I tried to reap.
Hours whittled by, cares nor worries we had none;
chore at hand was to induce fun.
Travelled so long to reach that place;
felt like rocketing into space.
Across state lines, down the interstate;
in the back of that old Chevy, only to sit and wait.
Toiled each year for that summer trott;
New York to Indiana, at times it was quite hot.
Fond memories I'll cherrish and hold;
pull through the dark, they'll be there till my hands are cold.
--
...then again, Ive been known to fib ;') http://skykingentertainment.net
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