Yankee Dave was his name -
a moniker of pride here in the deep deep south.
Brave, in your face, and fearless to a fault -
false teeth ever gleeming in a toothless mouth.
He wasn't old ... no ... not by far,
but motor-bikes and hard ground are ruthless
to a ceaseless, and un-ending smile
that, again, will leave you toothless.
He didn't care because life went on -
more adventures and more to conquer,
like swinging from a branch ...
chainsaw in hand ... branches and trees, no longer
... standing, as it were, for they were conquered,
and that, after all, was the whole point
for the out-of-place, Florida moniker.
Yankee Dave was his name, and thus he was appointed.
- Author: Eugene S. (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: June 10th, 2022 12:28
- Comment from author about the poem: I guess it should be known that Native Central-Floridians can view Yankee culture as something in the realm of complete insanity and my close Yankee friend certainly lived up to those standards!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
Comments1
Hi! I love your poem.
Thank you. It's about a close friend from days of old.
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