Bob Williams Poems

One thing you can count on to be lite up
One thing you can count on to be rite near
One thing you can count on to be easy to find
One thing you can count on to be at every turn
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My father was fireman.
He drove a big red truck and when he'd go to work each day
he'd say, 'Mother wish me luck.'
Then Dad would not come home again
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We walk in sweet harmony
We walk to stop and see the fountain
We walk to say on the path
Then
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When winning the lottery after a cool swim
When marring my wife after coming home from work
When running from Miss. death after eating apple pie
When walking from the light after palying some ball
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Dressed with red
Attached with sirens
Armed with hoses
Filled with water
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I try and restore what was lost
I try and make it normal again
They jackhamer it
They loosen it
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When reality becomes painful to bare
When reality turns into nightmares
Escape is what the mind seeks for
Escape is what the mind seems to create
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Grass gives in to the wind
But they are weeds
Rocks give in to the water
But they are dead
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