Take me back to sixty-nine,
the year, not the...never mind.
I keep reverting to that time,
when life was simpler; sublime.
In the throes of puberty,
feeling music course through me.
Songs of the day,
artists of the time,
albums of the year,
in my mind, they all shine.
For music was where I found my "voice",
those melodic poems were my choice,
when I ran out of notes, the lyrics popped,
(and for a span of twelve years I completely stopped).
But back with a vengeance I came roaring
to hear my poetry take flight, now soaring
beyond all expectations, my fait accompli;
my celebration of mind, and words and me.
If I had to pinpoint where it began,
'twas the "Summer of Love" kick-started this man,
and so as I venture to continue in rhyme,
I toss my once-upon-a-mane to Nineteen Sixty-Nine!
Peace, Brother!
Walt
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