Example Blog Title
March 19, 2020
Nice Little House
The flimflam ice cream slips from the cones,
Of starry-eyed children headed for home,
Where the cricket sings, the dogs live like kings,
And we have all those things like a fridge and a phone.
Yes we live in a nice little house like the mobsters.
We play it cool, but we won’t play you cheap.
Stop down with some wine and we’ll bake you a lobster.
When the money runs out, we just say what the bleep.
We party for Christmas ‘till New Years arrives,
And we touch each other, to make sure we’re alive,
Fill up our pockets with trinkets and drive,
‘Till we run out of gas at quarter to five.
Now, some folks like to cross the ocean,
Go look for new ways to relax.
Or just sit at home with their favorite potion,
Try to come to grips with the facts.
Anything beats just going through the motions
Of trying to come up with some scratch.
So we hit the road when we get the notion,
Sometimes we don’t even look at the map.
Now you might say it’s just a vacation,
But it’s really something more than that.
We’re looking for something, we’re searching but we
May not know what it is ‘till we find it,
Or it finds us, as the case may be.
Like the caravans in the desert night, and the fishes in the deep blue sea,
They know where they’re going, and in our own way so do we.
On that particular day when we ran out of gas,
It was a long-haired trucker that saved our hash.
We hear that big rig gearing down,
The kids are jumpin’ all around.
He took us down to his place by the river,
The neighbors hangin’ out, I mean these people deliver.
Sometimes I think it’s actually deliberate:
We run out of gas to see who will deliver it.
And of course we always return the favor
Although it may be a different flavor,
A different time, a different place,
Another name and another face.
So in the words of the footloose pilgrim, let’s dispense with protocol.
Then time is on our side, and the world is our port of call.
Let us drink that cherry wine, which is blessed by God above,
At least it tastes that way, for two strangers sharing love.
We washed up on this shore from the shipwreck of life,
And found we weren’t alone, in fact it’s where I met my wife.
And if I may suggest our agenda at a glance,
It’s that all of the children get a decent chance,
And they won’t just be victims of circumstance.
And they won’t have to grow up being trampled by the ants.
So we tool around and have lots of fun,
But sooner or later we feel the tug,
Of home and it isn’t long ‘till we’re back
In our nice little house, snug as a bug.
It’s a gem of a spot on the outskirts of town.
Sometimes at night we go out and walk around.
We hear people talking, laughing in their houses,
The sound of the wind in the trees so tall.
In the dark sky the stars look like they’re alive,
And maybe they are after all.
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