Menu
Share
Share this story
Close X
 
Switch to Desktop Site

Singing Dylan

A poem.

Singing Dylan

I had a cheap guitar
(good enough for Dylan)
and a first-rate imagination;

Dave thought he could sing,
so we hollered
The Times They Are A-Changin'

About these ads

in my breezeway,
belting child rebellion
and a whole new order,

playing with such sincerity
to the green plaster wall,
when my father walked through,

reminding me I needed to finish
mowing the lawn.

Mark Rhoads


Follow Stories Like This
Get the Monitor stories you care about delivered to your inbox.