Down to the Pier for a Beer

 

Down to the Pier

 In spring the wind reaps clean the green racemes

And shakes a gossamer chrysalis to tremble, to dream                              

That the once green caterpillar worm wouldn’t die                                   

But transform into beauty, grow wings and fly.                                   

As orange blossom fragrance scents the air                                   

The feeling comes, a remembrance, something there.                                   

A taste, a time forgotten, so long ago                                   

When you were young, and you longed to grow;                                   

When the sap ran strong and before it peaked                                   

You loved lip to lip, and cheek to cheek.                                   

In pastel gardens of your youth                                   

Yellow orange red rose was the truth.                                   

You jumped out of bed, awakened with the sun,                                   

You played all day, the whole day was fun.                                   

At night you prayed and wished upon a star,                                   

But now, back in time,                                   

. . . In this springtime                                   

You get a beer                                   

Drive down on the pier                                   

And sit in your car.

The Sweating Joker Poems by Stephen Philip Means

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