C R Clark Poems

Ain’t we got a good thing going, honey
Ain’t we, ain’t we baby
Ain’t we got a fine little pair of young, uns
Ain’t we, ain’t we baby
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Ah, to lounge on a tin roof porch
As a slow, cool summer rain
Washes away the gathered dust
That seems to cover everything
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Heads that shine are “oh so fine”
And mostly trouble free
No hair to fly when wind is high
They’re always slick and neat
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The first cool breath of autumn
Is a balm of sweet delight
Refreshing all it touches
In the day and through the night
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Flying low over stumps and rocks
Dodging people and trees
Mighty “Jug” mans the wheel
Of his infamous speed machine
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The Aura of the campfire
Is magical indeed
As friends encircled in the glow
Recount their daily deeds
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A cool Thanksgiving afternoon
Cousins, at grandpa’s, hard at play
Parents, all visiting, on the porch
The sun shone bright, a bluebird day
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In the early hours of morning, I was driving around the town
Going nowhere special, just couldn’t make myself lay down
My mind was deep in turmoil such, as I had never known
I’d made a mess of everything my self-esteem was gone
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When I’m lost and feeling lonely
And I think that no one cares
When the day closes in around me
And my eyes well up with tears
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Everything is turning green
Spring is just around the bend
Birds are singing everywhere
And Sonya’s got a cold
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