There goes a tourist bus,
making a mock of my town,
Driving through the heart,
seeking grapes and wine,
Passing up the heart beat,
standing on the corner,
Watching all the girls go by . . .
on the corner of 1st and Main.
There goes a tourist fuss,
making a mock of my town,
Riding, on old car parts,
seeking wine and dine,
Passing up the hard heat,
sitting in the parlor,
Waving as the bums go by . . .
on the heartless Wine Train.
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Love Tinka
great job this most definitly will keep poetry alive....