Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Music got into my shoe-free feet
that old May morning
and hop-skipped me down my town’s main street,
loudly and childishly singing.

Neighbors paused, cocked their heads,
merchants frowned from their doors;
late sleepers leapt from their wakened beds
and listened at windows, up two floors.
Three teens turned off their shoving match and stared;
our bow-tied music teacher winced and glared.

Poor thing, tsk’ed a sister,
he ought to be pitied.
No way, sniffed a mister,
he should be committed.

So somebody called a psychiatrist,
and somebody fetched our cop.
But nobody shook a threatening fist
and nobody told me to stop.

I recollect the month was May–
I know it was not December.
But the boyhood song I sang that day?
Don’t ask. I cannot remember.

Jim Revised 5/3/09

this could be a specific memory, but nonetheless is effective in a general sense as a snapshot of youthful energy and defiance....of a boy unafraid to prance, ....show off his exuberance .....his carefree self to all the world

as it should be..........nice reflection, jim

Ah, Jim, you rascally thing! As long as you were only shoeless, not clueless and sky clad! I loved it, by the way.

This brought me from my chair to being there. Good tale and poem, Jim.