She ties her shoes on..
Down in old town people come from most anywhere.. behind green wine bottles..
heart of love shared..
Angel tends her garden.. her little green pad.. picket fence a dog.. folks warm and glad..
Angel a star there.. old town loves her well..
her Brit tea.. soup tin.. tiny silver bells..
hob nob witches goblins baby skin all shades.. old town folks are artists..
good music gets played..
folks live in houses.. hotels.. rooms most any kind..
place for quiet living.. place to lose your mind..
reflect care my heart.. lets it hit my eyes.. smell of pasta cooking.. hustlers speaking lies.. teen passions in alleys.. listen.. do not stare.. best things are for poor folks.. like rich folks they care..
Adobe walls.. wooden halls.. picture golden days.. times of carriage rides.. surprise at lovers and their ways…. new girl from New York City.. ‘Brooklyn‘ what she said.. monster twelve pound hat.. perched on her head..
Heard she saw old Amos.. he danced a lick.. asked her to hold on.. just for a tick.. climbed up the ladder.. Rhythm felt true.. songs played through his head.. got grandpa’s shoes..
Danced through the alleys.. danced in the park.. sang like a wolf.. sang with a lark.. danced love and happy.. heartache and dread.. loving in laughter..
dance until dead..
Look there a woman dressed to dodge scorn.. hat made by southpaws.. from silken corn..
Old Amos dances.. must find her soon.. high with desire.. love to the moon..
Dance to the music.. swim through your tears.. dance ever closer.. love in the years.. Peace Tony
©.AC.4.8.12.arr././
