Toast and Jam
Every day seems to be the same,
I listen to the rumble of a passing train.
The sound of children playing in the street,
and the pounding of many passing feet.
It seems as if it were only yesterday,
that I myself was a child at play.
Off to the shops, with mum and dad,
if I got an ice cream, I was really glad.
Then school, nose to the grind,
lots of swat, and homework, or else I got left behind.
Work came with money in my pocket,
save hard to buy a car, and a girl a locket.
Parties girls, and fun,
weekends, spent lying on the beach in the sun.
Love, hand in hand,
down to the jewelers shop, to buy a golden wedding band.
Married, mortgaged, and in hock,
things to buy, rent to pay, on the place we got.
Children crying in the night,
parenthood, god, what a fright.
Before you know it, they are all grown,
left the nest, out in the world, on there own.
Which brings me back to where I am,
sitting here eating toast, and jam.
Tango.
Poetry by Tango
Read 561 times
Written on 2009-09-13 at 07:01
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