She'll never know the excitement of finding a three dollar cappuccino maker at a thrift store.
She'll never know the friends she might have made by staying at hostels around the world.
She'll never know the thrill of finding half-priced muffins on the soon-to-be-expired shelf at the grocery store.
Yes, I feel sorry for Oprah.
She'll never know the joys I've known.
Does she wonder if true friends exist?
Does she have the freedom to walk naked on a beach?
Does she have someone to share with when the world tumbles in?
Yes, I feel sorry for Oprah.
She'll never know the joys I've known.
And somewhere under a bridge lives a man who washes himself in a duck pond and lives in a tattered tent.
He basks in the morning sun on the warming graffiti covered boulder as he sips the steaming cup of coffee someone has just given him and thinks, I feel sorry for Joe. He'll never know the joys I've known.
Note to reader- I had the pleasure of meeting David Mason, Poet Laureate of Colorado, and his wife Chrissy last night. They have a poetry workshop going on at the Cortez Library this morning. I've been having vehicle problems and needed to resolve them (the battery is charging again and a friend has offered to follow me on my drive to the mechanic). Anyhow, if I had made it to the workshop, this is likely the poem I would have produced.
She'll never know the friends she might have made by staying at hostels around the world.
She'll never know the thrill of finding half-priced muffins on the soon-to-be-expired shelf at the grocery store.
Yes, I feel sorry for Oprah.
She'll never know the joys I've known.
Does she wonder if true friends exist?
Does she have the freedom to walk naked on a beach?
Does she have someone to share with when the world tumbles in?
Yes, I feel sorry for Oprah.
She'll never know the joys I've known.
And somewhere under a bridge lives a man who washes himself in a duck pond and lives in a tattered tent.
He basks in the morning sun on the warming graffiti covered boulder as he sips the steaming cup of coffee someone has just given him and thinks, I feel sorry for Joe. He'll never know the joys I've known.
Note to reader- I had the pleasure of meeting David Mason, Poet Laureate of Colorado, and his wife Chrissy last night. They have a poetry workshop going on at the Cortez Library this morning. I've been having vehicle problems and needed to resolve them (the battery is charging again and a friend has offered to follow me on my drive to the mechanic). Anyhow, if I had made it to the workshop, this is likely the poem I would have produced.
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