Dreams are strange things. Probably about my busking days.

Both Sides Of Our Track

I was sitting on a matchbox
Filled with hopeless dreams
Mr Perkins was in one ear
In the other crowd screams
Dressed up in my best suit
Shiny pointed shoes to boot
No-one cared much it seems

Cars went by so darned fast
Shook the pavement beneath
Dialed a wish on my cell phone
But my provider had no belief
So I took out my last cigarette
Just as crumpled as it could get
Clamped it between yellow teeth

Then I got out my trusty guitar
Out of hock but on the way back
Tuned it in noise as best I could
Then felt a melancholia attack
I began to play my one only hit
Catchy and loud you must admit
Of two lovers on a railway track

“Train is coming I can hear
Train is coming growing near
But if that big metal machine
Cuts us off right in-between
On both sides of our track
Don’t ever go looking back
To time and places past been”

For maybe life is just a dream

Poetry by Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2018-02-10 at 03:15

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Very nice, Dave

Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
This is very good! You have quite a way with words and rhymes. I am impressed. Dream on!

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
This is so reminiscent of Gordon Lightfoot! Great stuff, Dave!

Yes Jamsbo, life is just a dream. You keep looking for the
good stuff, but it's hard to find.