They keep buying houses down memory lane,
They keep hoping the place will get bigger
and they can keep going upward.
But, once they hit 60th Avenue
You know, the wheels will start to buck.
As if the engine's been living on crack.
No amount of maintenance will ever be enough.
You can't drive them up anymore.
Not in this climate.
'Round 60th you know you'll get all the bad.
It's training wheels all over again.
But they're too tired to follow you,
And you don't have time for them anymore.
It's a crook place past 60th.
YOU ARE READING
Strands of Time
PoesiA collection of feelings, hurts, experiences and lessons learnt, felt and lived. A road woven in time for 9 years and continuing. Information for Readers: You'll notice in the titles, the poems run from "Class 7 to Class 15", I started writing from...
