Poetic Just Us (An encore)

(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:


I couldn’t believe
He told me to leave;
This nice gnome
From his cozy home.
Me, his roommate
Since 2008.

Why the boot?
I’m just an old coot?
My space is a hole
Not even much for a vole
I’m a plain pushover,
I only eat your leftover.

I will admit
For longer than a bit,
I’ve been filling up your studio
I never thought I’d outgrow
But why couldn’t you be a diplomat,
And not simply call me a FAT RAT?