Don’t wear black for me
From love or sympathy
My self-destructive life’s
Been a troubadour’s delight
Hoist up a round or three
Drink to clown called destiny
Don’t say a prayer
Never have been a Main Street player
Don’t bring flowers and wreaths
Choke over memories
My self-destructive life’s
Been a troubadour’s delight
Once you were a love to me
Found how warm a home could be
Our feet went on fire
Too indiscreet to be a liar
Set up a round again
Drink it with a smile my friend
Who knows the whole truth
Never believe it without the proof
Don’t carve a monument
Pay the poor children’s rent
My self-destructive life’s
Been a vagabond’s delight
About the Creator
Charles Turner
My work is based on who I am now and have been in the past. It is based on a lifetime of reading. Autobiography, standard fiction, sci/fi, fantasy, westerns. I plan to put together a collection of short stories to publish via Amazon.
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More stories from Charles Turner and writers in Poets and other communities.
Tales of the Aurora Borealis
Who knew a solar storm could be so beautiful? Purples, reds, and greens shimmering in our skies like dancing ribbons. Hypnotic and enchanting, the Northern Lights have had us humans in complete awe for centuries. Which got me thinking, what did our ancestors think of the Aurora Borealis?
By Rosie J. Sargent4 days ago in FYI
Comments (1)
I think most of us can relate to this.