Sonnet 15 – The Blues
Many a poor boy was born on this side
to look with a longing over the tracks
while a life of toil with no easy ride
was slowly but surely breaking their backs
Some never make it and some turn to crime
others fight on wanting better to see
a future where there are no streets of grime
and live in a place where they want to be.
If you make it, then don’t you look back son
but walk tall and just remember this place
and how from the back of the pack you won,
running with iron shackles, the rich man’s race
And no matter what always keep that smile
as you pound that track for mile after mile.