PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I’m knocking on her place of business

I ring her doorbell to the dogs

They run up biting on my ankles

She jingles over when she walks

In with the old and out with the new

She’s selling your old clothes back to you

Just like her mother and her mother’s mother too 

Labor of love line running through

There’s a rooster telling the weather

And a feather quill for a pen

It’s a life that holds her together

Amanda

Antique-a

You just gotta meet her

Dying in my anticipation

Killing time and warming the bench

What’s the point of waiting and waiting?

Amanda

Antique-a 

You just gotta

Isn’t it nice? Isn’t it nice? Isn’t it nice?

Isn’t it nice? Isn’t it nice? Isn’t it nice?

Peace poles and holy rollers standing

Side by side shooting up like trees

Signs of hope or premonitions

I never know which to believe

And my degree’s one part companion

And one part stalling from the day

The rows of pines that hold me over

Bend into Hoboken and break

Isn’t it nice? Isn’t it nice? Isn’t it nice?

Isn’t it nice? Isn’t it nice? Isn’t it nice?

I’ve got a hundred letters I said I’d never send

A hundred more in waiting just sitting round my head

And no one hears them but the 

Dust bunnies living in my brain

I’d write a hundred better if I could find the time

And while the clock is ticking, I walk a thinning line

Between my endless waiting and going pretty much insane

(Let ‘em out, let ‘em out)