long weeks,
sleepless nights,
paycheque and hair thins,
pot bellies and double-chins,
youthful memories,
packed in tea biscuit tins,
weddings and divorces,
professional development courses,
blue-toothed mid-lifers,
driving Porsches,
office birthday, a bottle uncorks,
sugar cake and a plastic fork,
how'd I end up in this march of the dorks?
just wanna have a round with my friends,
play guitar on a porch,
hold a little bit left of the fight,
quietly watch the night,
slowly swallow the evening light.
3 comments:
French and I dream of days when the lads can pull cold icy beers from a old coleman cooler as big fat chords shake from our guitars. We call it Porch Dreams.
Great poem.
Nice one!!! I just want to sit on a porch just like the good 'ole days. Be a rebel, dream about the future. Never factored in getting older with sore feet and an aching heart. Never thought me and Neil Young would end up in the same place. But I guess we all do. Like I said, Nice One!!!
Really creative, Dox. There was a wonderful interview on the CBC a week or so ago --Gomeshi with Neil and Daniel Lanois talking about the new record, war, drugs, getting old and being stronger...exemplars for all of us to follow.
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