December 22, 2007

• 
  GOIN’ WITH THE FLOW
  
  Looking out the window,
  And saying perhaps,
  ‘Twil be as they say,
  Later in the day snow. 
  
  Across town we hied,
  To hospital to visit son, 
  Good thing early we tried,
  Snow falling  had begun.

  Nursing a grudge  and shivering,
  Against cold sludge,
  We made our way back across town,
  Blithering.

  Southward along York Street,
  Snow carrying a world of woe,
  When did we meet,
  A  place I well know.

  1311 the place that became my heaven,
  An old mansion that became,
  AA to the max,
  And where I learned to play the game,
  Of not falling through cracks.

  I do stop by now and then,
  Take in a meeting and talk,
  Telling other’s stories or ten,
  Our stories, much alike nor do we balk,
  At telling them.

  
  1311 York Street

  The faces change,  though the stories do not,
  Different words maybe,
  Same meanings, a lot.
  There is hope for those like us !

   

  • 6:22 am
  • 17 Comments