Why Do I Write Such Silly Stuff? Poem by francis e.rudy

the wind blows my window
i'ts near time to go

across the cold alley way
the dried leaves blow

outside every one's looking at me
but, their eyes look down; afraid to talk

is it them or me, my sanity or vanity
that makes them balk!

it's a San Francisco wind
blowing in

blowing the leaves around
i wanted to travel

but i'm locked in Chicago
with the Alburquerque blues

with all i have to lose
with the whole world from to choose

i'm back in my room, alone
with the any where i'm at, i'm still the same blues!