Frank H. McNamara

(Cannon Falls, Minnesota)

Too Late - Poem by Frank H. McNamara

As I crushed the aluminum can
that I had just held in my hand.
I decided to check on the going
Yesterday it was 60, but today
it's 50
I am are a day TOO

Once I borrowed money from
Dad and I answered an ad...
A Chevrolet sedan... '68
When I arrived I was told
Sorry the cars been sold
I got there an hour TOO LATE.

I went to the barber and sat in
the chair.
I said I am not here to have
you cut my hair,
I want something to grow hair
on my pate.
He went to the shelf read all
the labels himself, turned and
Sorry I think you're TOO

So as time goes on, it's the
same old song
It seems it's my destined fate as
I go my way,
To hear someone say I am
sorry friend you're TOO LATE
I live day to day trying to
change my way
So that when my soul, it heads for the gate
I don't hear Peter say We
closed yesterday, I am sorry my
friend you're TOO LATE.

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Read poems about / on: sorry, money, hair, friend, fate, today, change, song, time, car

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003

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