i see the sky's been crying,
streets are full of tears
like the old town remembers
though its drowned beneath the years
and on the corner of the street
still older faces stop and greet
has it been so long old friend
red light and green push all the cars around
the stains of dirty factories
where they pulled them all down
and i go under, i go back
in the barrelroom below
we used to play skat poker
and pass the bottle round
stevies blues played on an old guitar
stale smoked crowd, gin soaked bar
haunts the corner of my eye
like some facet of a stone
my forgotten fascination
with THIS place.....
this place that i call....
- it's just my hometown
-
Author:
dusk arising (
Offline) - Published: March 17th, 2018 04:15
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 46
- User favorite of this poem: Laura🌻.
Offline)
Comments5
There's no place like home - enjoyed this da
I'm crying for that old building........ it's lovely........
da,
Such a craving for the old familiar places! A great nostalgic write! Enjoyed it!
~Laura~
Very good write, knowing you the Blues had to be in there somewhere.
the grass is never really greener... a genuine and fond reminisce methinks........... luverly... Neville
Actually i'm a bit of a nomad. These words are pure fantasy. i tried to write about my lack of roots earlier today... i may publish soon, same old story, first impulse got too long winded, serious edit required.
nothing wrong with nomads...
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