Don'T It Make Your Brown Eyes Blue
Twas nineteen seventy-six and myself a mere seventeen years of age
Autumn's quickly bringing to yet it's close, her bicentennial's celebrations
Going solo crashing their university's party once again; an outcast as quite shy
Just odd it seems a poor kid trying to fit in; better, wishing to be loved or, belong ?
Having tasted this glimpse be hope his yearbook, at fifteen and what girls had written
Trodden by life the lost child sleeps truth, never have they awoke ? Reality but fragments
As dreams still today while some contemplate she serves nay, their failure onus premeditates....
Signet heart, twained tours love's asylum: less this night, vodka in lemonade her blonde, a brunette.
Copyright © Jeremy Street | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment