With Apologies to Otis…

Diuturnity

Been searchin’ all my life,

what seems like forever…

huntin’ me up a bay and a dock

to sit on while I watch the tide

roll away just like the man

sang about in that sad old song.

Got the time to waste now, got

the desire to sit and waste it;

jus' ain’t found that dock, yet.

Come to think of it, ain’t found

the bay, neither.

Soon’s I find that dock, and

soon’s I spot that old bay just

spreadin’ out in front of it

like it’s movin’ on, quiet and

easy, rollin’ on towards eternity;

I’m-a lean back and sorta scrunch

around a bit ‘til I’m real comfy.

Then I'll break me out a bottle,

and do a little serious sittin',

sippin’, and contemplatin’ 'bout

stuff...and high falutin' words like

diuturnity, and if any of it's really

worth the thinkin' about....

Maybe it all jus' don't mean nuthin'.

© 12/2/2004 Thurman P. Woodfork

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