An 11 ur. old boy sets on his Daddy!s floor Had just watched Billys latest crusade With a purple glass of grape aid Not even knowing how well I had it made Then some boy from Hibbing came on that 17 inch monochrome box He was pluckin & strummin those strings & singin some words that were magical things It was there,in summers mid June air that his words lodged in my brain and I knew, the times were beginnin to change Mr. Sullivan thanks the boy as he walked off the stage Went on back to the village,but the words that he spoke stayed They burned & churned til theirfreedom I gave Some type of transference inspiring he gave A word tree was planted & my words were given birth from this Woody or Seeger or Zimmy like Muse that was granted. Not their words,but mine To put on paper on Daddys floor on my borderline. That 11 yr. old boy done turned down the road to 63 Still words are coming & longing to be free And times keep on changing. Dylan on a mid summers night dubbie Jan. 2015
Posted on: Mon, 19 Jan 2015 09:12:48 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015