Mitch Cronin Posted August 17, 2003 Share Posted August 17, 2003 Or another crack at poetry The blissful sweet feeling of having no pressing matters as you wake The gratifying feeling of wasting time just for relaxation's sake Time to play and time to breath and time to feel all sorts of things that seem to heal the wounds of stress and grind that tear the soul, dull the senses, and cloud the weary mind 'tis here I sit on the eve of my last day of freedom this summer from here on in I'll be sold alas I am but a labourer prostituting my skills at night and in the cold What an infernal soul wrenching bummer! Forty three or forty four I can't just now remember which summers come and summers gone in the life of this particular Mitch of all my summers freedom and play the best of all in this leisure spree is the time spent in that wondrous place where time stands still and nothing matters but that my family is with me So while I toil in a hangar dark and dirty with bits and pieces of airplanes and tools and other poor souls tired and surly I'll be thinking of freedom from this life of drudgery Made so only because of some fools Goodbye summer I'll miss you but I'll be back again I'm sure it'd be less of an issue if the rest of the summer brought rain MC two thousand and three Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest PilotsWife Posted August 17, 2003 Share Posted August 17, 2003 Gee, That sounds like our song. After a labourous time sailing, laying on the beach and drinking too much beer. Husband and I finally made it back home. Work again tomorrow :-( Such is life in the summer! JP Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mitch Cronin Posted August 17, 2003 Author Share Posted August 17, 2003 Ahhh well, without the low's the up's would never seem so good. Besides, you were probably havin' too much fun. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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