Leavin' Home

by Walter Rooks

The fried chicken would last
From Georgia to Virginia.
Enough thoughts
To travel the world.
He'd be hungry
From Norfolk to Harlem;
Always full
Of jazz.
Too cold to sleep,
But tired enough to close his eyes.
He'd blow 'em a tune in Harlem,
Like somethin' they ain't never heard.

Leavin' Home by Walter Rooks

© Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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