The Blues Poem by James McLain

The blues they are coming,
blue yummy.
Yummy running from her
I'm coming.
Can you not, proper form
will you not?
When coming the blues,
coming blues are.
Touching and touching
your yummies,
I'm singing the blues.
You felt it out yonder.
Burning both ends,
I run from the middle
I'm coming, your yummy
some are blue,
on your tummy.
When yesterday and today
are well spaced
more often than not,
if togerther.