They weren't there when I grazed my knees,
They couldn't care if I sang out of glee,
They wouldn't share my good deeds,
And they sure as hell don't act like I'm free
I asked a few times if they needed me,
I'm over that, I even joined the rat-race,
They wonder if I'm doing the right thing,
It's whose job to judge art?
For the world to freeze in one day
I wonder what, come what may -
they'll make of the artists and singers, poets and all else with a decent heart
Saharan dust fell yesterday and I saw the stuff in the air at my front door
Today I missed the rain,
But tomorrow I'll rise again
But because there's nobody screaming in my ear - I'll move it anyway,
Try me
Copyright ©️ David Bosworth 2026