01/31/2013
The Old Swimming Hole
By Mary Jones
Picture me upon a rock
Talking to bugs
It's all small talk
The sun is hot
I 've picked the spot
To fry in
Nobody near me,
to talk to, to hear me
No church bells are ringing
No music, no singing
A nice breeze is blowing
and nobody knowing
I'm here -- where?
Here by the river
Waiting for hugs
Beginning to shiver
Disturbing the bugs
Picture me, I'm all alone
The sun's gone down
I have no phone
It's thundering,
I'm wondering --a storm?
I've got my love
To keep me warm
