Old Man
If I were a man
I would want to grow old
I would wear funny pants
and play the trombone
I would drive a blue Buick
really slow down the street
and wear argyle socks
with brown shoes on my feet
I would smoke sweet tobacco
from an old dirty pipe
and keep my shoes on
until ten at night
And I’d bury my wife,
be widowed alone,
and build things of wood
for my lonely old home.
I would want to grow old
I would wear funny pants
and play the trombone
I would drive a blue Buick
really slow down the street
and wear argyle socks
with brown shoes on my feet
I would smoke sweet tobacco
from an old dirty pipe
and keep my shoes on
until ten at night
And I’d bury my wife,
be widowed alone,
and build things of wood
for my lonely old home.
2 Comments:
I love your poem. You might pick up a copy of Annie Dillard's "Teaching a Stone to Talk". She writes.
Sounds like a happy guy to me. :)
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