the wind blows my window <br />i'ts near time to go <br /> <br />across the cold alley way <br />the dried leaves blow <br /> <br />outside every one's looking at me <br />but, their eyes look down; afraid to talk <br /> <br />is it them or me, my sanity or vanity <br />that makes them balk! <br /> <br />it's a San Francisco wind <br />blowing in <br /> <br />blowing the leaves around <br />i wanted to travel <br /> <br />but i'm locked in Chicago <br />with the Alburquerque blues <br /> <br />with all i have to lose <br />with the whole world from to choose <br /> <br />i'm back in my room, alone <br />with the any where i'm at, i'm still the same blues!<br /><br />francis e.rudy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/why-do-i-write-such-silly-stuff/
