For the McCleary Symposium
The war to end all wars was over,
and so was the deadly flu.
It was time to think of life and living,
a time for me and you.
You in your flapper finery,
your long cigarette holder askew.
Me in my knickers and straw hat,
we strolled down the avenue.
Watched movies both silent and sinful,
until the night was new.
And then danced till the night was gone,
drinking the latest bootleg brew.
To the sound of the Count and Duke,
the Charleston, the Lindy Hop so brand-new.
We were bees knees, to the tees,
and nouveau riche, too.
We were Bearcat and Stutts,
Tin Lizzies in ruts, always on the go.
When I asked you to "cut the rug. "
You never, ever, said "No."
You were my peach,
we'd summer at the beach.
And welcome the winter snow.
A warm fire with no place to go.
We were high wire,
our hearts were on fire,
it lasted as long as a flame,
a decadent decade in name.
Came 1929 and the dire bell rang,
we sang our last Old Lang Syne.
But as we look back, cant help but lack,
the luster of that wild and wonderful time.
Copyright 2010 © Ronald W. Hull
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