February fell in again and so
I begin again, but
it’s always yesterday someday.
Yesterday where I burn and today
they say I will learn,
yesterday’s where I turn to for
and February beats me again.
I lose it somewhere along each line and
some time sometimes loses me
age has no friends.
I like the feel of good jazz on my skin where
the trumpet blows in
and a good mood can begin, but
like a hollow faced stalker and
some time when February comes calling
it seems like it hits me and I’m
The way that thing are
I won’t fall very far
bent as I am
by the years.
I should be up there reaching for the sky
Douglas Bader knows why
instead, I’m kneeling feeling foolish
saying things like
God give me strength and at length
I think somebody does.
© 2016, John Smallshaw.