(5th and last of a mini-series of taking poetic license)
Three players on the sidewalk,
Watching passersby and listen to their talk;
That’s just us.
Together we used to make music;
We were quite therapeutic;
That was just us.
We played rock, funk, and blues;
Now we never make the news;
That’s just us.
We’ve been put out to pasture,
Open to any snatcher;
That’s just us.
You may also want to read the rest of the series:
1st
2nd
3rd
4th
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This is great Karina!
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Thanks 😊
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How unfortunate. 😦
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After convincing ourselves, we’re gonna grow up and be somebody or do something worthwhile, most of us become mere observers and gossip mongers. Reality bites. Superb writing, Karina.
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Thank you 🤗
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