I often travel the catalogue,
Of the music my life has played,
A rock ‘n roll – rollercoaster,
In chapter sequence arrayed.
Mother baked pies and cookies
to a poem from the Dylan tree,
Good vibrations of Beach Boys sing
about time when time was free.
Cruising around the drive-in,
My friends are there as we
whisper words of wisdom
from the Beatles’ Let It Be.
Sounds of Silence, come together
on a Horse With No Name,
Like the Eagles in my eyes,
My innocence they proclaim.
At times I feel garfunkeled
but memories give me power
to overcome the melancholy
with the hopeful crocus flower.
Ronald Whetsell's Creative Writing and Poetry Blog 