The Gathering

they came from the east
they arrived from the north
searching for the warmth of the gulf breezes
snow already covered most of them
a few hours in the southern sun
they would show more pink than Floyd
broken or injured in need of repair
like Jon Bon living on a prayer
smiling faces waiting to die
some just sit, stare or cry
they come here every year
in hopes of finding youth
only to find another year has gone
they'll drink their scotch and bourban
and sing songs to each other out of key
laugh at **** they never actually heard
pretending their hearing still works
guess that's why they sing so bad
how in the hell can they know
come early spring they reload
and start the reverse trek
they wave goodbye and throw kisses
I wonder if they will return
or be collected into the new world
a new and different gathering
  
Gomer LePoet ....