Albert Ahearn Poems

We all are born naive at birth
Ingenuous for what it’s worth.
The cure is in the things we learn
From childhood to adult that’s earned.
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Laying in a wicker basket
Are varied colored Easter eggs
Surrounded by milk chocolate
And jelly beans and root beer kegs.
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I am a beautiful flower
That is rooted in this bower.
Off limits for the likes of me
A nuisance most all will agree.
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A small golden ring with a blood–red heart
Rests amid his gadgets and the clutter
Of his desk like some famous work of art.
He gazed at its bright luster then muttered:
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It is five thirty and I am at my desk
With the intention of writing something.
I’m sitting waiting for inspiration
But the stimulation has not surfaced
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While half of humanity sleeps
And their normal noises desist:
Those raucous rackets I abhor
Give pause for mental pleasantries:
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Biking along Lehigh drive
On an early sunny morning
Not a cloud in the azure sky
My! My! What a wonderful day!
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I stood on shore at rivers edge
And gazed at it as it streamed by
Me. I was mesmerized by its
Uninterrupted babbling voice
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The wind on top of the mountain
Is just right for flying my kite.
No, it’s not a store bought item
I made it from old newspapers,
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The Dark Delaware on my left
The defunct canal on my right
And me in the middle of both.
I’m heading south on the towpath
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