Werewolf Disco

A rambling poem from yesteryear with a prophetic message.

My Grandpa was a Werewolf
They shot him down in May
The Jury undecided
The Strangest D.N.A.
I staggered by the piano
A pocket full of lint
My time was all withdrawn
It echoed through my stint
Moonlight slowly sinking
I bared the ship alone
I heard the trumpet crooning
My dream-scape heartbreak dome
Itsy Bitsy Spider
Crisco Vaseline
Eskimo Tomorrows
Stir Fry Thai Bo Spleen
I've been selling flowers
Down In Yesterday
Witches are a mating
Pop ups on the way
Lone and first star sweater
Wear it in the rain
Look like Lighthouse Captains
Bearing mortal pain
Ontario is cordial
The memories spark a flame
Some light still shining brightly
Some lost along the way
Kindness left forgotten
Some things stay the same
Me, I just keep burning
These days are truly strange