TO THE BRANDYWINE HIGH SCHOOL CLASS OF ‘67

Dedicated to Mr. Robinson, English Teacher

Almost everything was right in the world back then

But for the War and my speckled complexion

I’d been dancing and dreaming since the age of reason

Chasing, but not touching, sweet girls in season.

But I was a folkie by 1967

Almost a hippie (if my parents would let me)

I couldn’t care less about the Honor Roll:

I was anti-authority, not out-of-control.

Here’s to all those who got what they wanted

Who chose their own way, unsung but undaunted.

Here’s to all those who slipped through the cracks

Who tasted freedom and never came back.

Forty years later, I have my guitar,

I play a little better, jam with the stars.

After being indentured for so many years,

I still have to learn to conquer my fears.

Now I have a sweet woman, and she’s been touched.

She tells me each day how she loves me so much.

We’ll dance all day and into the night,

I think we finally got it right.

So here’s to all those who got what they wanted

Who chose their own way, unsung but undaunted.

Here’s to those who slipped through the cracks,

Who tasted freedom and never came back.

-Joe Allen  4/1/07 www.2ndsaturdaypoets.com