Backward, upside down banjos flicking notes at the clouds,
the old and young alike, enter in rounds.
Musicians stomping on a hearty stage,
what a wonderful, wild, wrangling rage!
Sunflower seed shells hit the dusty path of yesterday,
no time for days of dreary-teary-gray.
“Drinks on me, my lips need a jolt,”
said one rather rowdy adult.
Sassy guitar sounds rattle the rattlers rosy cheeks,
this is the most commotion anyone’s heard in weeks.
Dancing heels flirt under long colorful skirts,
men’s hairy chests boast through their shirts.
The smell of pies and tasty treats tickle young noses,
while boisterous boys and giggling girls strike poses.
About the Creator
Rowan Finley
Father. Academic Advisor. Musician. Writer. Aspiring licensed mental health counselor. My real name is Jesse Balogh.
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Comments (1)
Your imageries were so vivid. Such a beautifully written poem!